


Read me Carefully, Follow me Closely, Doubt me Not

by Persuade_me



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gendrya Big Bang, Slow Burn, gendrya bigbang 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24927577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persuade_me/pseuds/Persuade_me
Summary: A map says to you, 'Read me carefully, follow me closely, doubt me not.'It says, 'I am the earth in the palm of your hand. Without me, you are alone and lost.”- Beryl MarkhamWest with the NightGendry Waters is perfectly happy in his quiet backroom archives, cataloging and caring for the rare maps of Westeros with no one to bother him. But when his solitary existence is disrupted by the absolutely infuriating yet completely captivating archaeologist and treasure hunter Arya Stark, he’s surprised to find, for the first time, that he might want just a bit of adventure.Written for the Gendrya Big Bang
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 266
Kudos: 321
Collections: Still Rowing: A Gendrya Centric Fanfic Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know next to nothing about the actual practice of archaeology, so if that's your thing and I get it all completely wrong, then I apologize.

The Rare Map Room at the Westerosi Historical Archives was hard to find. Tucked away at the very back of the ancient building, behind the restoration lab and the administrative offices, the few people who usually made their way back there were mostly academics who had no interest in any conversation that didn’t extend past the map they were looking for, and that suited Gendry just fine. 

So when Arya Stark showed up, bubbling over with enthusiasm and determined to draw him into conversation, he was more than a little put out. 

It was a quiet Tuesday morning when she first appeared, and to be honest, he was in an even fouler mood than usual. He’d stayed up far too late skyping with Barra in Storm’s End who needed help with her history assignment and overslept, having to forego his usual long shower, only managing to jump in and out before the water even warmed. Then his coffee maker fizzled out in an absolutely spectacular manner, spewing hot liquid all over his counter and splattering on his one clean shirt. The last straw had been when his motorcycle wouldn’t start, and he’d had to run to try to catch the bus, rounding the corner just as it pulled away. 

So when he unlocked the doors to the map room to find a young woman already inside, sipping on a travel mug as she examined the framed maps on the wall in the far corner of the room, he was far more curt than he would have normally been. 

“You can’t have that in here,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes and wondering just how the hell she had gotten in there. 

She didn’t react at all, just continued peering at the reproduction late 8th Century, hand drawn map of Braavos. She leaned in, as if she was squinting at something, then pulled back and he heard a small snort of laughter.

“Excuse me,” he said loudly, but she simply lifted her travel mug and took another sip. “Fucks sake,” he muttered and crossed the room swiftly to tap her on the shoulder. 

She shrieked, her entire body jolting in surprise as she whirled around to face him, and he was met with wide grey eyes. She stared at him for a moment before reaching up to her ear and pulling out a wireless earbud from beneath her hair, a booming bassline pouring out into the quiet space.

She was young. Far younger than the people who regularly set foot in the map room. Maybe mid-twenties, he guessed, but he was crap at guessing people’s ages, so he couldn’t be sure. Younger than him, at least, he thought. Attractive too, he thought absentmindedly. Definitely far more attractive than the people who regularly set foot in the map room. 

But even so, she shouldn’t be here. No one should be here. Inside the map room. Without his approval.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she breathed, tugging out the other earbud before pulling out her phone and tapping on the screen, abruptly ending the music and plunging the room back into the silence that Gendry was so very fond of.

“Hi,” she said brightly. “Are you Mr. Waters?”

He nodded once, and then pointed at her travel mug. “You can’t have that in here,” he said firmly. 

She blinked at him, the smile on her face fading slightly as she glanced down at the mug in her hand. “Oh,” she said, frowning before tucking it into the worn leather messenger bag slung over her shoulder. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” he asked bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest and giving her his best glare.

Her head tilted to the side and her lips quirked up in an amused smile. “He told me you were grumpy,” she said lightly, clearly not at all phased by his best glare. 

Gendry felt himself flush slightly as indignation rushed through him, and he drew himself up, eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?” 

“Mr. Seaworth,” she replied, reaching down to open her bag again and drawing out an envelope that she thrust at him. “He’s the one who let me in. I’m Arya, and I need to see one of your maps.”

He eyed her warily for a moment, then reached out to take the proffered envelope, pulling out a folded piece of paper and opening it to see a researcher application stamped _APPROVED_ across the top. 

One of the benefits of working with such a valuable collection was that it was closed to the general public. Even if you could find the place, you couldn’t just walk in off the street and ask to see Maester So and So’s map of Oldtown or the original map of King’s Landing, no matter how much you begged.

There was a process. An order to things. Steps that must be followed. Steps that usually involved him. 

“I never approved this,” he said shortly, glowering at her. 

“I know,” she said cheerfully, a faint note of apology in her voice. “I’m afraid I blatantly took advantage of some family connections to have my application fast tracked. I couldn’t wait the usual-” Her shoulders straightened and her tone shifted as if she were quoting something. “Twelve to sixteen weeks for our review board to determine the validity of your request.” 

She was definitely quoting something. She was quoting him. The criteria he’d written that was listed on their website for those wishing to apply for access. Irritation shot through him at the way she recited his own words back at him. “There’s a reason for the wait, you know,” he said sharply. “We have to make sure your request is legitimate, and that can’t be done in-” He cut himself off and looked down at the application in his hand, his eyebrows shooting up when he saw yesterday’s date at the top. “In one day?!” 

To her credit, she did look a little sheepish at his incredulity. “I know,” she said again, not quite as cheerfully this time, and definitely more apologetic. “But it really is time sensitive.”

Gendry stared at her, bewildered. The newest map in this collection was almost 200 years old. “What could possibly be time sensitive about any of the things we have here?” he asked her bluntly. 

“Climate change,” she said simply. 

He crossed his arms across his chest and eyed her suspiciously. “Climate change,” he repeated dubiously. 

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded and turned back to the map of Braavos behind her on the wall. “See here,” she said pointing at a small chain of five islands off to the north of the city. “These islands are sinking.” She paused, frowning. “No, strike that. They’re not sinking, they’re being swallowed by the sea.” 

She reached into her bag again and pulled out a tablet. She tapped a few times, then turned it around to show him a zoomed in satellite view of Braavos. “See here?” she said, pointing to the same area where the islands on the map should have been, but there were only three small slivers of land. “This is from a month ago.” She swiped left to another aerial view and three larger slivers of land. “This is from a year ago. See the difference?”

His irritation momentarily forgotten, he took the tablet and swiped back to the previous picture then back again. There was a distinct difference between the two images. Gendry looked back up at her and nodded. 

“Okay,” he said. “So, climate change. Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing _here_.”

She tucked her tablet back into her bag and moved to a nearby table, leaning against it as she gazed up at him. “How much do you know of your Braavosi history?” she asked. 

Gendry shrugged. “The normal amount one learns in school, I suppose. Founded by escaped slaves, hidden for centuries. Water dancing. The Iron Bank.” He frowned, thinking. “I know bits and pieces of it. We have several Braavosi maps, but my focus is Westerosi history.” 

She nodded. “Most people here don’t learn much more than the basics, but you’ve probably heard of Elissa Farman, right?”

Gendry nodded. Most people knew at least something of the ancient explorer. 

“Then you probably know she got her ship from Braavos, that she essentially paid for it using three dragons eggs that she stole from the Targaryens.”

He’d heard the stories, how she’d sailed off into the Sunset Sea, searching for unknown lands. He nodded again, waiting for her to elaborate.

“No one knows exactly what happened to those eggs,” she continued. “There are theories, and some claim that they are the same eggs given to Daenerys Targaryen centuries later, but the truth is, no one has ever really known.” She paused. “Until now.”

Gendry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she smirked, her mouth twisting up in triumph. “You found Elissa Farman’s dragon eggs,” he said skeptically.

“Well, we think we know where to find them,” she clarified. Turning, she pointed to the map behind her. “Some recently uncovered documents indicate the sealord hid them from the Targaryens on one of those islands.”

He crossed his arms and stared at her incredulously. “Are you’re… what? Just going to go get them?”

She nodded vigorously. “I’m an archaeologist,” she explained. “And we’ve been hired to find them, but the Braavosi government will not let us dig without some kind of proof.” She grinned up at him. “That’s where you come in.”

He blinked at her. “Me?”

“Well, your maps, anyway,” she explained, reaching into her bag and pulling out a notebook and flipping through it. “There’s a map here that I think can help. Number 47?”

Gendry knew the map. It was the oldest in their collection, quite possibly the oldest in the world, a very fragile and irreplaceable map from before the Uncloaking, impossible to date accurately and rarely brought out for anyone. Passed down from sealord to sealord, it was covered in a variety of different handwriting, ranging from large, looping letters to tiny, almost completely faded unreadable script. It was kept under strict climate control in a specially made case. No one was ever approved to see it. But she was. 

He couldn’t help his curiosity, despite his annoyance. Who was she exactly to get approval, not only to see their rarest item, but in less than a day?

“Who are you?” he asked in frustration. “No one is supposed to be allowed near this map. I’m barely allowed to look at it, and this is my collection.”

Her expression shifted into embarrassment. “I’m Arya,” she said quietly. “Arya Stark.”

She looked at him like that should be an explanation, and somewhere in the back of his head, he felt like it probably was, like he should know what that meant, but he wasn’t sure what. “And?”

She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m-” She cut herself off and chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, glancing over to the side, as if she were debating something internally, then she let out a long breath and looked up at him. “Do you know who Ned Stark is?”

His eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath. “Warden of the North Ned Stark?” he asked cautiously, and she nodded. 

“He’s my dad,” she said. 

Ah. Well, that certainly explained it. The Starks were practically royalty, one of the oldest families in Westeros. If Ned Stark had asked for special accomodations, you could be sure that they would be granted, no matter how ridiculous they were. Resentment suddenly rushed through him as he gazed down at her. She’d probably never truly had to work for anything in her life. A small huff of irritation escaped him, and her face fell almost imperceptibly, then hardened. 

“What?” She glared at him, eyes flashing with indignation.

Gendry opened his mouth to retort, to let her know exactly what he thought of her, but then he realized that if she was indeed who she said she was, she could very well make things extremely difficult for him if she chose. He clamped his mouth shut. 

“Nothing,” he said, clenching his jaw and tamping down his anger. 

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, you know,” she said, drawing herself up and looking up at him defiantly. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I’ll have you know this is the first time I have _ever_ used my connections like this. It was a shit move, and I know it, but really, I didn’t have a choice. If I waited for you to make sure I’m ‘legitimate’ then by the time you’d gone through the process, it could be too late. So are you going to get me that map or not?”

Gendry stared at her, nodded once, then turned on his heel, fuming as he went. He hadn’t even had a chance to set his things down yet, and already his day had gone to shit. He made his way to his office to drop off his bag and then back to the storage area, muttering to himself the entire time about the injustice of it all. 

It wasn’t a particularly large map, perhaps half a meter across, and he could have easily carried it out, but he was nothing if not meticulous with the items in his care. He checked the case thoroughly before carefully placing it on a cart and wheeling it out to the reading room. Pushing through the door, he stopped dead when he saw what she’d done to the room. Two light stands had been set up on either side of the table in the center of the room, and she was in the middle of attaching a large camera to some complicated contraption that was hovering over the table like a spider. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, horrified. “You can’t-” 

“Ah, Gendry,” a voice cut him off, and he spun around to see Davos standing behind him, a guilty look on his face. “I see you’ve met Miss Stark.”

“What is she doing?!” 

Davos pursed his lips. “I know this is unorthodox, lad, but-”

“But nothing,” he fumed. “She can’t just-”

Davos stepped forward, his hands raised to placate him. “She can. The board approved it.”

“The board?! The board doesn’t understand shit! Do they have any idea how delicate this particular item is?” He whirled around to see Arya standing frozen, eyeing him uncertainly. He glowered at her, not breaking eye contact. “She’s going to _ruin_ it.”

Arya moved closer, biting her lip, her eyes apologetic. “I realize that this is bad for the map,” she said. “But this is the only way to get what I need. I promise that I’m going to be as quick as I can to minimize any risk.”

Gendry glared at her, furious with how little she seemed to care about the map that he was responsible for. He turned to look at Davos, ready to argue, but the look on his boss’s face shut him down. “Fine,” he spit out, throwing up his hands before whirling around to point at her angrily. “But if you destroy it, then just know that you’ve deprived the world of something irreplaceable.”

She stared at him for a moment, and he almost thought she was going to argue, but she nodded wordlessly, then turned back to where she was working. 

He watched silently, arms crossed and anger and frustration coursing through him. He hovered nearby as she pulled out various pieces of equipment from a case he hadn’t noticed earlier, some kind of light meter, and other things that he wasn’t quite sure of what they were. In spite of himself, he couldn’t help but feel his curiosity piqued. “What are you doing?” he asked begrudgingly.

She didn’t answer immediately, just continued taking readings and marking things down in her notebook. “See here?” she said after a moment, turning to point at a spot on the map where the handwriting had faded. “The ink is still there. It’s just you can’t see it.” She turned and gestured to the camera set up. “I’m using different wavelengths of light to pull it out. The camera will capture it, and then I’ll have to make some adjustments on the computer, but if I’m correct, then we should be able to read every last word anyone ever wrote on here.”

Gendry grunted at her, reluctantly intrigued with the possibility, but he didn’t speak again, just watched closely as she worked, ready to stop her at the first sign of danger to his map, no matter what Davos said. 

She was quick, he had to give her that. Once she’d gotten everything set up, she finally positioned the map under the camera and turned on the lights. In less than a minute she was finished, and he practically snatched the case from the table in his haste to get it out of danger and back into its proper place.

“Why did they let her do that?” he asked Davos after she’d left. “That could have caused untold damage, but just because Ned Stark asks, they let her waltz in here and potentially destroy it.” 

“Lad, you have to understand-” he started, but Gendry cut him off, full of fury and resentment. 

“No," he spat out angrily. "She’s just another rich girl.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, a very nice thank you/apology note appeared in his inbox along with a rather impressive bouquet of flowers that he immediately tossed in the trash, but then dug out twenty minutes later to take to Bella. His sister loved flowers, and it was stupid to waste them. The note was full of apologies that almost sounded sincere, but Gendry brushed them off and tried to put her out of his mind. If she’d really been sorry about it, she wouldn’t have done it in the first place. 

Three months later, he had hardly thought about Arya Stark at all except to occasionally fume, until one morning when he arrived at work to find a large brown envelope on his desk with his name on it. There was no note, just a stack of photographs. Flipping through the first few images, he was struck with a wave of annoyance when he realized they were pictures from Arya Stark’s dig in Braavos, a dig that was only possible because of her callous indifference regarding the care of his map. He huffed angrily, tossing the pictures down on his desk, where they fanned out, spreading across his papers. 

Groaning, he reached down to gather them up, throw them away, forget she ever existed, but then his eyes fell on her face, beaming as she held up a dusty… _dragon egg_ to the camera. Stunned, he lifted the photograph, staring at the silvery scales covering the oblong sphere in her hands.

She was right. She was fucking right. He blinked at the broad grin on her face, the light in her eyes evident even in the flatness of the image. He picked up the rest of the pictures and flipped through them quickly, pausing at the ones that showed her holding up two more eggs, a dark blue and a rich purple.

There were a few more images, more artifacts she’d uncovered, he assumed. A few iron coins, a small dagger, and a handful of arrowheads. He turned back to one of Arya and studied it. She was standing, he assumed on a beach, judging from the water behind her. In the distance he could see the Titan of Braavos, and for a split second, he saw himself standing beside her, grinning widely at the camera. 

Frowning, he banished the thought from his head and flipped the picture over, looking for a note, but there was nothing. He picked up the envelope and peered inside, but it too was empty. She had nothing to say, he realized, but she didn’t need to say anything to get her point across. She was right. He was wrong. 

He huffed angrily and threw the photographs face down on his desk, unwilling to see the smug smile on her face again. Ignoring them, he logged in to his computer and pulled up his email. There at the top of his inbox in bold was a message from arya.stark@wmail.com with the subject line: _Recovered Images_. 

He stared at it a moment, nostrils flaring in irritation, mouse hovering over the delete button before sighing and clicking the message to read what she had to say. 

_Dear Mr. Waters,_

_I wanted to thank you once again for accommodating me recently by allowing me-_

Gendry snorted in derision. _Allowing her_. Like he’d had a choice.

_-by allowing me to take the necessary photographs of the Braavosi map. I realize that you would have preferred it if I had not exposed it to any kind of risk, but I did want to show you what we managed to uncover before we shared it with the rest of the world._

He glanced at the bottom of the message to see several images attached, and he pursed up his lips in frustration. He was still annoyed, but he couldn’t help the curiosity that was starting to itch at the back of his brain at the thought of seeing what she’d found on his map. 

Sighing, he moved to open the first attachment and felt his mouth drop when it loaded. Where there’d been nothing, there were now faint lines of script. Where the ink had been faded and splotchy, it was now thick lines of text, and where the color had been washed away, it was now vibrant and bold. 

He let out a huff of disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. Clicking through the other attachments, he found she’d zoomed in on various segments, highlighting certain things, including the islands she’d been so interested in. He couldn’t read Braavosi, but he assumed that the tight spidery words beside the largest one indicated the location of the dragon eggs. 

Gendry stared at the image for another moment before returning to her email. 

_As you can see, I was able to recover quite a lot of information from the map, and while I understand if you never want to see me again, I do hope you can forgive me for the worry I caused you. It was never my intention, and I am truly sorry to have done so._

A twinge of guilt twisted through him, and he reached over to grab the stack of photographs again, flipping through them until he found one of her grinning broadly at the camera. He drew it closer, really examining her face, her grin of triumph, her eyes shining in joy, and he felt a sudden shame wash over him. 

She wasn’t smug. She wasn’t rubbing it in his face. She was proud. She’d done something no one would have ever thought possible, and she was understandably pleased with herself. Instantly, he felt like an idiot. A rude, grouchy, completely obtuse idiot. He let out a groan of self hatred. 

He knew he was antisocial. He knew he was grumpy. And he knew he had a propensity towards rudeness, but he’d made an effort to curb it, especially in a professional setting. He might never be friendly, but he at least tried to be polite, and he’d let all of his carefully constructed courtesy go right out the window the second he had spoken to her. 

He let out a long sigh and turned his eyes back to the screen, to the rest of the email.

_I am planning to be at the archives tomorrow to drop off a few things, and I would like to stop in if that’s all right with you. You don’t even have to reply to me if you’d prefer not to. Just let Mr. Seaworth know if you’re unavailable. I promise I won’t be offended. I’ll just leave my reports, and you’ll never know I was there._

_But if you don’t mind, I do have something I’d like to show you in person._

_Hoping to see you soon,_

_Arya Stark_

He stared at the screen for a long moment, debating internally. He owed her an apology. He knew that. He wasn’t one to hide from owning up to his mistakes, but even so, she’d given him an out, an out that for some strange reason, he was extraordinarily tempted to take.

Frowning, he considered it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to apologize or admit that he’d been an ass, but there was some part of him that was absolutely dreading doing just that, and he couldn’t figure out why. Gendry sighed heavily and closed out of the email, banishing the question temporarily. He’d make no decision just yet.

As he worked, he stewed on it throughout the day, unable to clarify _why_. But despite the conflict he felt, he knew he couldn’t just ignore it, so he’d sent a quick email to Davos, letting him know he’d be expecting Arya Stark in the morning, and could he please have her shown to the map room?

***

When he arrived at work the next morning, he found her standing quietly beside the locked map room door, leaning against a black rolling case, her face uncertain as she watched him approach. 

“Hi,” he said, stopping and readjusting his bag on his shoulder, feeling suddenly extremely self conscious under her gaze. 

“Hi,” she replied, a small cautious smile on her face. “I guess you got my pictures?” she asked, and he nodded. 

“I’m-”

“You-”

They both started talking at once, but then she stopped, and he twisted up his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I was unbelievably rude to you before-”

She held her hands up, and cut him off. “No, I get it. I really do. That map is priceless, and you’ve been looking after it for years, and I just waltz in here with no warning and do things to it that you were not okay with. If someone had come into my workspace like that, I would have been livid.” She stopped and bit her lower lip. “I truly am sorry,” she said quietly, looking up at him with wide grey eyes that were full of sincerity.

He held her gaze for a moment, trying to find the words that would properly say _Sorry for being a dick, even if I might have been slightly justified in being a dick, and now I feel like an idiot for being such a dick because it turns out you really did know what you were talking about, and holy shit, you found dragon eggs, and that’s kind of amazing, but I’m struggling with feeling like a dick and still being a little pissed over what you did to my map despite the fact that you actually fucking found dragon eggs so I’m having quite a lot of internal conflict here_ but nothing came to mind, so he just gave a short, sharp nod before moving quickly to unlock the door, holding it open for her as she turned to grab the handle of the rolling case set against the wall beside her.

“So,” he said awkwardly once he had followed her in and flipped on the lights, finding her facing him again. “I guess you found what you were looking for then.”

A smile split her face, her eyes lit up as she nodded, a look of glee on her face, and he felt an odd swoop in his stomach that he couldn’t quite place. She bit her lip and looked for all the world like she had a secret she couldn’t bear to keep quiet about any longer. “You wanna see ‘em?”

He blinked at her. “What?”

She grinned, her shoulders scrunched up in excitement. “Do you want to see them?” she repeated, her eyes practically sparkling with delight.

He stared at her. Was she asking what he thought she was asking? “Do I want to see… dragon eggs?” he asked slowly, and she nodded.

“Holy shit,” he said, all traces of any lingering resentment vanishing instantly, replaced by astonishment. “Seriously?”

She nodded again and turned to lift the rolling case to set it on the table closest to where she was standing before she glanced back at him and jerked her head, urging him to come stand beside her. Her hands moved to the latch on the side of the case, and she looked up at him with a conspiratorial smile. 

“Officially, these aren’t here,” she said, leaning her head just a bit towards him as if she was confessing a wrongdoing, which he supposed she technically was. “Officially, they’re locked in a safe in my supervisor’s office before being shipped off to Dragonstone tomorrow, but I talked him into letting me borrow them for the morning.”

He stared at her, bewildered at her admission. “Why?”

Arya’s head tilted and the corner of her mouth quirked up in a half grin. “I wanted to show them to you,” she said quietly, her cheeks reddening as she glanced away from him. 

Gendry blinked. “To me?” he asked, confused by her words.

She looked up at him again and nodded briefly, then focused her attention on the case in front of her without answering. There was a click as the metal hasp slid open, and then his gaze shifted from her profile to the open case in front of him. 

There, nestled inside a thick foam insert were the three eggs he’d seen in those images barely twenty four hours before, and he felt his mouth drop open as he took them in. 

“Wow,” he breathed, his eyes roaming over them. “Dragon eggs. Actual, real life, dragon eggs.” Without thinking, he stretched out a hand, but then caught himself pulling his fingers back, and Arya laughed. 

“Here,” she said, reaching out and grabbing the blue egg and thrusting it at him. 

He stared wide eyed at her, completely perplexed, his eyes darting between her outstretched hands and her expectant face. 

“Well?” she said impatiently. “Are you really going to pass up a once in a lifetime chance to hold an actual, real life, dragon egg?”

He blinked at her then felt a smile spread across his face as he held out his hands to take it from her. “Holy shit,” he whispered, his fingers running over the scales, marveling at the weight of it, the shimmer that reflected a thousand tiny stars under the overhead lights, the sheer impossibility of it all. He glanced up to see Arya watching him closely, a small smile on her lips.

“Let me see your phone,” she said, sticking her hand out. Without really thinking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and passed it over to her, watching as she opened his camera and held it up. “Smile.”

He frowned. 

Arya rolled her eyes at him. “Do you want a once in a lifetime picture or not?” she asked, a slightly teasing note to her voice. 

He stared at her for a moment, then raised the egg closer to his face and smiled. Or attempted to anyway. He wasn’t very good at posed pictures. 

“Hang on,” she said, setting his phone down and grabbing the silver egg with both hands and thrusting it at him before turning back to grab the purple. “I can’t hold all three at once,” she said. “Even cradling them in my arms, I’m too small, but you’re-” She cut herself off suddenly, a slight flush to her cheeks as her eyes darted to where the eggs rested comfortably in his palms, his fingers curving up to almost the tops. 

He saw her mouth open slightly, like she was sucking in a breath, then she blinked rapidly and held out the purple egg to set it gently on top of the others as he pulled them back to rest them against his chest. “You’re fine, though,” she said in an odd tone. “Definitely big enough.” She turned back around to pick up his phone and held it up. “Ready?” 

He nodded, and he saw her finger tap several times against the screen, taking multiple pictures before reaching out to reclaim the purple egg. He moved next to her and gently placed the silver egg and then the blue back into the carved out foam before taking his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. 

“I’d better not see those pictures on Instagram or anything,” she said lightly, not looking at him as she shut the lid to the case and closed the latch. 

Gendry snorted, and she swiveled her head to look at him questioningly. “It’d be kind of hard,” he said, “considering I don’t have one.”

“Facebook?”

He shook his head. 

“Twitter?”

“Nope.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Tumblr?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

She chuckled. “Why does that not surprise me?” she said, smiling up at him.

He wasn’t sure if that was meant to be an insult or a compliment. 

“Seriously, though,” she said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “I’d appreciate it if you kept this quiet. I could potentially get in a lot of trouble for showing them to you.”

His chest filled with an unexpected warmth at her words, and he stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, of course,” he said. 

“Good.” She smiled up at him. “Does this mean you forgive me?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice, but Gendry could see the uncertainty on her face.

He pursed his lips and glared at her for a moment, then he sighed, his shoulders dropping in resignation. “I suppose,” he said begrudgingly. “I’m not sure if there’s anything you could have said or done to make me all right with what you did to my map. But,” he continued, tilting his head towards the case on the table, “I can admit that the end results are pretty amazing. And you do genuinely seem to regret the risk, so I guess there’s no hard feelings.”

Her eyes lit up and her entire face seemed to transform at his words, genuine delight apparent in the way her lips curved up in a smile. “Good,” she said, and she turned to rummage through her bag for a moment before pulling out a small white cardboard box and thrusting it at him. “Here. This is for you.”

Gendry’s eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked down at the box in her hand then back up at Arya. “For me?”

She nodded and pushed the box into his hand. “I was going to call it a peace offering, but now it’s just a gift between friends. I found it with the eggs.”

Curious, he lifted the lid, revealing a small iron arrowhead nestled in a bed of cotton. He blinked at it, momentarily dumbstruck before reaching in to brush his fingers gently over the scarred, rusted metal. 

A rush of awe filled him at the realization that he was holding something impossibly old, something ancient. Which was a little odd considering the age of the maps that surrounded him every day, but this, this felt significant, like a piece of the past. The weight of its history struck him, and he felt a sudden tightness in his chest. She’d not kept this for herself. She’d brought it to _him._ And he couldn’t even begin to understand why.

He lifted his gaze to see her watching him cautiously. He opened his mouth, intending to say thank you, but what came out instead was “Why?” He cringed internally at his blunt tone, but Arya just quirked up her mouth in a half smile and moved to lean back against the table. 

“Mr. Seaworth mentioned how interested you are in ancient weaponry, and I thought you might like it,” she said, and he felt another strange rush of warmth. “Whether I’m allowed to keep anything from a dig depends on who hired us, who’s funding us, and this was kind of a weird situation. The Targaryen Institute hired us, but there were all these agreements between them and the Braavosi government about who got to keep what and who couldn’t have what and it was very complicated, but long story short, I got to keep one of these.”

Startled, his eyes shot to meet hers. “And- You’re giving it to me?” He was completely baffled that she would do such a thing.

She flushed suddenly and shrugged before turning to rummage in her bag again. “Yeah, well,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “You’ve got some amazing resources here that I’d really like to utilize, so there’s a little bit of an ulterior motive here too.” She straightened back up, having apparently not found what she was looking for. “Like I said, peace offering.”

He scoffed. “A peace offering is something like a twelve pack of my favorite beer or a new book, not a priceless piece of history.” Arya looked suddenly self conscious, and he continued, unable to resist the temptation to fuck with her just a bit. He crossed his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes at her, his face stern. “Besides, aren’t there, like, laws against bribery?” 

Arya’s eyes widened, a hint of panic crossing her face at his serious expression. She stared at him, her mouth slightly opening then closing for a moment, and he couldn’t help but crack, a slow smile breaking across his face. 

Arya’s face sagged, then screwed up in indignation. “You asshole,” she said, but it lacked conviction. 

He shrugged and then stuck out a hand. Arya stared at it for a moment then reached out to take it, but he retracted his fingers slightly and frowned. “Are you going to be exposing any more of my maps to your high tech torture?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Not to my knowledge, but if I do, I’ll give you plenty of forewarning next time. How’s that?”

Gendry sighed and extended his hand again, giving hers a firm shake when she grasped it. “I suppose that will have to do, won’t it?” A thought struck him, and he stopped to peer at her suspiciously. “Did you want to see something else today?”

She grinned sheepishly and nodded. “Map 89. The Stormlands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say that while it's possible to recover faded ink and things like that using multispectral imaging, it's not always as effective or simple as I've made it out to be here. If you're interested in seeing a truly amazing example of using this method to recover information, check out the Archimedes Palimpsest.


	3. Chapter 3

She was waiting for him by the door again when he came back from one of the most tedious meetings he’d ever had the misfortune to sit through. His frustration with the bullshit politics of the workplace suddenly evaporated at the sight of her sitting cross legged on the floor, a large book in her lap. He watched her for a moment, studying her face as she turned a page. Her wireless earbuds were visible this time beneath a loose braid, her head bopping along to music he couldn’t hear, and a strange warmth blossomed in his chest as he stood there, taking her in. 

It’d been nearly two months since he’d seen her. Since he’d realized what an ass he’d been and begrudgingly acquiesced that she was not in fact evil incarnate sent from the seventh hell to destroy his maps. He’d thought of her fairly regularly, though. Every time his eye would fall on the iron arrowhead she gave him, in fact. And considering he’d had it mounted in a shadowbox and it was sitting in a place of pride on his desk, that amounted to nearly every day that Arya Stark invaded his thoughts. 

She turned a page, and dropped her head back, planting her hands on the floor beside her, chest arched and eyes closed as she stretched. She made a noise somewhere between a moan and a grunt, and Gendry’s stomach gave an odd flip. He didn’t have time to figure out what it meant though, as her eyes opened and fell on him and she grinned widely, closing the book and jumping to her feet as she pulled out her earbuds. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “I’m back!”

“I can see that,” he said. 

“Have you always been this bright?” she teased. 

Gendry flushed slightly and pulled down his “Back at 4:00” sign before unlocking the door and flicking on the lights. “What do you need this time?” he asked, turning around to face her.

She blinked at him for a moment, her smile dropping slightly. “I- I don’t _need_ anything, but I did have something to show you.” She moved to place her bag on the table, and drew out a small leather case. 

“Don’t tell anyone I brought this here first,” she said. “I’m really not supposed to show it to anyone, but I knew you’d never forgive me if I didn’t let you see it.”

He’d been staring at her, perplexed at her visiting without a reason, at the idea that anyone outside his siblings would willingly come to see him. Her words, however, cut through his confusion, and he moved to stand beside her, eyes furrowing as she unzipped the case and drew out a dagger with a gold and black handle, a large ruby embedded in its side.

The light caught the blade, and he gasped. “Is that-”

“Valyrian steel,” she said proudly. “Supposedly the dagger that killed the Night King.”

“Night King’s a myth,” he said automatically, and she laughed. 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She shrugged and held it out to him.

He stared at the weapon in her hand for a moment, then gingerly reached out to take it. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Valyrian steel.” 

If you’d asked anyone else if they’d had a choice to hold dragon eggs or Valyrian steel, ninety nine out of a hundred people would have immediately answered dragons eggs. For him? He’d have tossed those three eggs off the highest tower of the Red Keep for even a chance to get within ten feet of Valyrian steel.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” she asked, lifting herself to sit on the table as she watched him turn the dagger over in his hands. 

He snorted loudly. “Pretty cool? That’s a terrible description,” he said. “I’d have thought a trained archeologist could do better than ‘pretty cool’. This is…” He trailed off. “This is beyond words.” He ran his finger along the blade, marveling at the swirls embedded in the metal. “No one knows how to do this anymore, you know,” he said wistfully.

“Yeah, I know,” she said. 

“There’s all these theories about how it’s made. Magic. Dragonfire. Blood sacrifice. A few years back, there was a scientist who got permission from one of the old houses that owned a Valyrian steel sword to analyze it. I think they were hoping to make money off of it somehow. He ran all kinds of tests on it, tried to recreate the chemical makeup, but it didn’t work. He used the hottest fires possible, added his own blood to the mix. I think he even got some red priest to come and do some weird blessing thing.”

“Red priest?” she interjected. “That doesn’t even make sense. The Valyrians didn’t worship R'hllor.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not sure what the rationale behind that was. But the point is, no matter what he did, what he tried, there was something missing. Nothing worked, and the method of creating Valyrian steel remained a mystery.” He sighed sadly as he stared down at the rippling steel for a moment. After another sad sigh, he looked up to see her watching him closely, her head slightly tilted and an amused expression on her face, and he felt himself flush, suddenly self conscious over his ramblings, but she just held his gaze for a moment before looking down at the weapon in his hands.

“There’s just so few examples of it left,” he explained, turning the dagger over in his hands again, before reluctantly holding it out to her, but she smiled at him and shook her head. He wasn’t going to argue if it let him continue to practically fondle the weapon, so he pulled it back and kept examining it. “Where’d you find it?” he asked.

“Near Storm’s End.”

He glanced up at her, his eyebrows narrowing in confusion. “That doesn’t make much sense. If this dagger killed the Night King, and I’m not saying that it did,” he added. “How’d it end up in Storm’s End? Shouldn’t it be up North?”

She shrugged. “Not entirely sure. A lot of records from that time are gone, but it matches the description in the various histories of the Long Night.” 

“Somebody could have made a copy,” he mused, then instantly realized that was stupid. “Oh. Never mind. Valyrian steel.”

“There was some other pretty cool stuff with it too,” she said, pulling out her tablet and opening the pictures. “See? There was a whole cache of dragonglass weapons, including this pretty badass double ended detachable spear.” 

She moved over next to him and held out her tablet as she swiped through the images to show him. Laid out on a table were at least thirty various dragonglass weapons, daggers, arrowheads, said detachable spear, and one very large, very nasty looking mace. 

“I’d hate to get hit in the head with that,” he said, and she laughed. 

“If you got hit in the head with that, you wouldn’t be hating anything because you’d be dead.”

He hummed in agreement, and leaned over again, listening to her description of her time in the Stormlands and marveling over the images of the various things she’d uncovered. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he couldn’t help but grin as she described the difficulties of conducting an archeological dig in one of the wettest seasons in recorded history. 

“Well, what did you expect?” he asked, an uncharacteristic teasing note in his voice. “It’s called the Stormlands for a reason.”

They’d settled into chairs at one of the tables as they talked, or more accurately, as Arya talked and Gendry listened, the Valyrian steel dagger nestled in its case in front of them, along with a few of the dragonglass weapons she’d pulled out to show him. Her hair had started to slip out of its braid, and Gendry found himself increasingly distracted by a tendril that had curled against her cheek, inexplicably hit with the desire to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

Arya drew herself up, her hair shifting with the movement and breaking his concentration. He looked up to see her eyeing him indignantly. “I know that, stupid. We were prepared, I swear, but even so, we weren’t expecting the storms to be apocalypse level.” She picked up her tablet from beside her on the table and swiped to a video. “Watch this and tell me there isn’t something unnatural about rain like that.”

He should have been offended that she’d called him stupid, but somehow, he found it slightly endearing the way she glared at him as she pressed play and handed over her device. After watching the video, though, he had to concede that she had a point. If it hadn’t been for the presence of Arya making horrified faces at the camera at the storm over her shoulder, Gendry would have easily believed he was watching a scene from a disaster movie.

“Yeah, okay,” he said when the video ended, freezing on an image of a tent flying through the air, “I’ll admit that does look pretty bad.”

She snorted. “Pretty bad?” she asked sardonically, her eyebrows raised. He grinned, glancing down at the screen, and he was startled to see that it was now well past five. He’d been so engrossed in her account that he’d barely noticed the time passing, and considering he rarely stayed even a minute past closing, it struck him as more than odd that he hadn’t realized.

“I’m sorry,” he said, frowning in slight confusion. “I’ve kept you.”

She blinked at him. “What?” 

“It’s late,” he said, pointing at the clock on the wall over the door. “We’ve technically been closed for half an hour now, and I need to lock up.”

“Oh,” she said, surprise on her face. “I didn’t realize how late it’d gotten.” 

He stretched out his hand to run it over the blade of the dagger one more time before looking up at her. “Thanks for bringing it by,” he said quietly. “I can’t even begin to explain how much I appreciate it.” 

Her face softened, and her mouth curved up into a small smile. “Not a problem.”

He stared at her for a moment, that strange warmth burning in his chest again, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself wanting to continue a conversation. Flustered at the notion, he nodded, then stood abruptly and began moving around the room, pushing chairs in and picking up stray pieces of paper to throw away. 

“I guess I’ll see you another time then?” He turned to see her standing by the table, her bag over her shoulder. Her grey eyes were wide and a little uncertain as she watched him cross to switch off a small table lamp.

He stopped and swallowed, unable to put words to the odd ache that had suddenly bloomed in his stomach. Maybe he was coming down with something. “Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “Another time.”

“Unless…” she trailed off, her eyes darting away from him and then back again.

“Unless what?” 

Arya reached up and brushed her hair back, tugging on her braid and biting her lip. “Do you have plans?” she asked.

Gendry blinked at her. “Plans?”

Her mouth quirked up. “Yeah, you know, plans? Like dinner reservations? Someone you’re supposed to meet? Or somewhere you’re scheduled to be?”

He stared at her, slightly confused by the question. “No,” he said slowly. “No plans. Generally, I just head home after work.”

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded to herself as if she’d come to some kind of decision before grinning at him widely. “Good, then you’re coming with me.”

“With you?”

“Yep,” she nodded. “Go get your shit and lock up.”

Feeling a bit bewildered, Gendry returned to his office to shut down his computer and grab his bag, grateful he’d completed most of his usual closing procedures prior to his meeting before rejoining her in the map room. Arya was standing by the door, tapping away on her phone when he returned. 

“You ready?” she asked, her smile suddenly filling him with an odd fluttery feeling. Maybe he really was coming down with something.

***

She led him to a small diner a few blocks away from the archives, swearing that it had the best pie she’d ever eaten in any of her travels. 

“How have you never been here before?” she asked, handing him a menu across the chipped formica table. “It’s literal minutes from your job, and I’m pretty sure the pie is a cultural institution here. It’s even got its own verified Twitter account.”

Gendry shrugged. “I don’t usually go out for lunch,” he said. He preferred to hole up in his office with the door locked so he didn’t have to talk to anyone, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. He had the impression that she was the type to eat with a different colleague or friend every day, and he was afraid that she might look down on him for his antisocial tendencies.

She just nodded though. “Yeah, I can see that,” she said thoughtfully, looking down at her menu. “Some people just need that break. Nothing wrong with that.”

Gendry started. Most people didn’t understand his need for solitude. It drove Bella crazy that he only had the mental energy to visit with her every other month or so, always categorically refusing to attend her large house parties, but he simply couldn’t bear them. His half sister just couldn’t understand why, and she’d known him for years.

But Arya, who he’d been acquainted with for less than half a year and had only been in his presence three times had simply nodded and accepted it. That odd warmth returned, accompanied by a sense of confusion that he couldn’t quite decipher. 

He didn’t have a chance to think on it, though, as a smiling waitress appeared at their table, notepad poised to take their order. When she’d left them with drinks, he looked across at Arya and cautiously returned the smile she was giving him.

“So how long have you lived in King’s Landing then?” she asked, balling up her straw paper and tossing it at his head. 

***

She was beyond chatty, asking him all sorts of questions, drawing more information out of him than he’d ever voluntarily shared with anyone. But the look of genuine interest on her face and the way she propped up her chin in her hand, her eyes fully focused on his somehow broke through his natural reticence, and he found himself _wanting_ to share more about himself, and even more strangely, wanting to know more about her.

“So how does the daughter of the Warden of the North get into digging up ancient artifacts anyway?”

She popped a fry in her mouth and swallowed before quirking up her mouth at him. “I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

Gendry narrowed his eyes at her. “Okay. Now you have to tell me.”

“When I was seven, I found a Targaryen era sword in a riverbank.” 

He blinked at her. 

“We were on a family trip, heading down to King’s Landing, and we had stopped near the crossroads for a break. I’d begged my parents to let us play for a while, because I was convinced that I could find Rhaegar’s rubies in the Trident.” She pulled out her phone and tapped a few times before holding it out to him. “I didn’t find any rubies, but there’d been a drought that year, so the water level was lower than normal, and I did find this.”

He took the phone and looked down to see a tiny, very muddy Arya standing beside a riverbank, beaming at the camera, a rusted sword that looked almost as tall as she was in her hands. 

“I’d gone wading in the water, and my foot hit it, and I reached down to see what it was,” she said, taking her phone back from him. “I knew right away it was a sword, so obviously, I yelled that I’d found Rhaegar’s sword. My mother just said, ‘That’s nice, dear,’ and kept on with whatever it was she was doing.” She paused, frowning briefly before continuing. 

“So of course, I had to prove it, and I got down on my hands and knees and yanked that sucker out of the mud. Ended up completely filthy, as you can see, but when I stood up and held that thing over my head, the look of shock on everyone’s faces was completely worth the scolding I got for ruining my clothes.” She chuckled at the memory, and the look of quiet triumph on her face brought a smile to his. 

“That’s kind of nuts, you know,” he said. “Uncovering a priceless historical artifact at the age of seven.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, grinning. “Especially considering how into swords and all those old stories I was then. I was always pretending to be a great warrior, fighting off the Others, protecting the realm.” She tilted her head slightly and quirked up her mouth. “I was obsessed with all those old tales about the Wall and the Night King, and being from the North, I grew up hearing all of them.”

“I bet you were a fierce little thing,” he said, smiling at the thought of her fighting off imaginary enemies.

She flushed a little and picked up another fry, dipping into her ketchup. “What about you? How’d you end up an archivist?”

He shot her a wry smile. “I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you,” he said, echoing her words. 

Arya’s head tilted in curiosity. “Okay, now you have to tell me.”

“I got arrested.”

Her eyebrows shot up in astonishment, and she gestured for him to continue. 

He paused, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t a story he told many people, but for some reason he was about to tell her, a virtual stranger, everything. It should have given him pause, that he was about to share something so personal with someone he barely knew, but it didn’t. “When I was fourteen, I got arrested for vandalism. They caught me and a mate spray painting some not so nice things on the side of the Red Keep.”

“What’d you write?” she interrupted.

“Uh.” He rubbed his neck self-consciously. “Well, we drew quite a few dicks.”

“Well, that goes without saying.”

He laughed. “There was a lot of ‘Fuck the Police’ and ‘Eat the Rich’ and stuff like that.” He sighed. “I grew up in Flea Bottom. Have you heard of it?”

She nodded slowly, the look in her eyes telling him she knew its reputation.

“Basically, they took one look at me and saw a kid with no future, and they were going to throw the book at me. Make an example of me. Lock me up until I turned eighteen and then dump me back on the streets with no support.”

“For vandalism?!” She sounded outraged. He nodded, and she gave an angry huff that he couldn’t help but appreciate. “So what happened?”

“Davos.” 

“Mr. Seaworth?”

He nodded. “He’s from Flea Bottom too, and there’s a youth center there that he’s involved with. Basically, they got in touch with him, and he pulled some strings and got me community service instead.”

She hummed, and he continued. “So I had to do something like five hundred hours of community service under his supervision at the archives. I did a lot of cleaning and filing and after my five hundred hours were done, he offered me a job.

“So I worked there as his assistant, still cleaning and filing, and despite my best efforts at remaining a disaffected juvenile delinquent, there was something about all those old things that kind of fascinated me…” He trailed off, looking down at his half eaten burger and swallowing around the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. 

“I- I never really knew my own history. I barely remember my mum. She died when I was little, and she had no family, so I grew up in care, bouncing around from house to house because no one wanted to deal with what an angry little shit I was.” His voice had gone slightly hoarse from the unexpected emotion.

He stopped, picking up his drink and taking a long sip before continuing. “But I didn’t know anything about where I came from. Didn’t even know who my dad was until about five years ago when he died and his estate tracked me down, so seeing all those things, all those artifacts that had this long story… I don’t know, it kind of spoke to me.” 

He stopped, slightly embarrassed at how much he’d revealed, but then he looked up to see her watching him thoughtfully. “That makes sense,” she said, without an ounce of judgment in her tone. 

He blinked at her a moment before continuing. “So anyway, Davos helped me apply for college, and I ended up studying history, which turned out to be not the best choice, because there wasn’t much I could do with a history degree except teach.”

Arya snorted. “Sorry,” she said, bringing her hand to her mouth to cover her laughter. “I absolutely cannot see you as a teacher.”

He gave her a half-hearted glare, and she laughed again.

“I ended up getting a master’s in archival science and preservation, and I’ve been in the map room ever since.”

“Far away from everyone,” she teased. “Ferociously guarding your treasures like a dragon in one of those old movies.”

He flushed, the reminder of their first meeting filling him with a rush of embarrassment. “Hey!” he said, a little indignant, but she just waved it away. 

“It’s cute,” she said, and he felt his face turn even redder, the embarrassment pushed aside by something else he couldn’t name. He picked up his burger and took a large bite, his eyes focused on his plate as he chewed, trying to think of something else to talk about. 

“So what’s been your favorite trip?” he asked, and she immediately launched into a long description of the semester she spent on the Dothraki Sea looking for evidence of their travel routes. By the time she was finished, they’d gone through their burgers, six different slices of pie (so he could try them all), and two cups of coffee each. 

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said. “I had a good time.”

“Me too,” he said, a little startled to realize how true that statement was. 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She turned, rummaged around in her bag for a moment, and pulled out a thin cardboard box that she pushed across the table. “This is for you. To say thank you.”

He frowned down at the box for a moment before pulling it to him and lifting the lid, revealing a dragonglass dagger. A mix of confusion, gratitude, and surprise washed through him, and he looked up to see her watching him, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. 

“Thank you?”

She shrugged. “For helping me with the map.”

He stared at her, bewildered. “Arya, it’s literally my job.”

She shrugged again. “Still. I appreciate it.”

Gendry frowned down at the dagger, then glanced back up at Arya, the silence stretching between them. 

“I mean, if you don’t want it,” she said, stretching out her hand to curl her fingers around the edge of the box.

“No!” His hand shot out and closed around her wrist, her skin soft and warm under his, and she froze. “I didn’t say that.”

Her lips curved up in a smirk. “So you do want it then.”

“Of course I want it.”

Her smirk grew, and he suddenly felt like he’d missed something. “Well, if you’re sure,” she said, lifting her hand away from the box, and he immediately let go of her wrist, moving to grasp the dagger and lift it out of the box. 

“Are you sure you want to give it to me?” he asked, looking down at the weapon in his hand. “Wouldn’t you rather keep it for yourself?”

“I definitely want to give it to you,” she said, her voice low. Then she cleared her throat and reached back to tug on her braid again. “I already have one, and besides, I don’t know anyone who would appreciate it as much as I think you would.”

“I- I do appreciate it, but-”

“But nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Just say ‘Thank you, Arya. This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ll treasure it always’.”

A bubble of laughter rose up in his throat, and he leaned forward across the table to fix her with his gaze. “Thank you, Arya. This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ll treasure it always.”

Her grey eyes danced as she leaned in, her face a foot away from his. “You’re welcome, Gendry.” She held his gaze for a moment longer, then sat up and pulled out her phone. 

“I’ve got to get going, but could I get your number?” He frowned. “For next time I’m in town,” she explained. “I’ll give you a heads up before I stop by to make sure I’m not going to be interrupting anything important.”

“Oh, uh. Yeah. Sure,” he stammered, taking her phone and entering in his contact information. “I guess, just let me know.”

She took her phone back and smiled, scrunching up her nose. “I’ll be in touch then.”

“I look forward to it,” he said politely, surprised to realize that, for once, he was actually telling the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

He really didn’t expect to hear from her again, not unless it was about a map, but the very next day, she sent him a link to an academic article about medieval blacksmithing methods with the comment, “I thought you might find this interesting.” 

And then a few days later, she texted him again, asking him if he could recommend the best way to store an old book she had recently purchased. Then she sent him a picture of a sword she owned, apologizing that it wasn’t ancient, but she still thought it was pretty cool. 

He was hesitant at first, replying with short answers, but the more she texted him, the more he responded, and soon they were texting every day, sometimes just a quick “hello” or a stupid meme and sometimes an in depth discussion of their favorite movies or a vent about their day. It wasn’t until he hadn’t heard from her in several days that he realized just how much he’d come to enjoy their conversations over the last few months.

“Why have you been scowling at your phone all night?” Bella craned her neck across her kitchen table, trying to see what he was looking at, and Gendry immediately shoved his phone deep into his pocket. “Are the Stags losing again?” She’d been bugging him to come over for a Friday night dinner for weeks, and he was regretting agreeing.

“No,” he growled, ignoring the pit in his stomach that had been simmering there for the last 48 hours, since his last several messages to Arya had gone unanswered. It’d been five days since he’d heard from her now. She’d never taken that long to respond before, especially not since they’d started texting regularly, and he couldn’t help the feeling of dread that had burrowed its way into him. Had something happened to her? Had he said something wrong? Had she decided that he wasn’t worth her time anymore?

“What is it then? You’ve been pulling it out every five minutes to check something, then you glare at it like it’s personally offended you.” Bella was eyeing him suspiciously. “You never check your phone like that. _Ever_.”

Gendry glowered at her, unwilling to admit that she had a point, but also a little bit desperate to spill everything, to have someone reassure him that everything was just fine.“It’s just- A friend I’m worried about.”

Bella’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “A friend,” she said in a dubious tone. 

“Yeah. I have friends, Bella.” _At least one friend anyway._

She frowned, tilting her head. “Okay, so you have a friend, then. What’s the problem? What are you worried about?”

Gendry let out a long breath. “I just- I haven’t heard from them in a while, and that’s kind of unusual. They usually text me back pretty quickly, and it’s been five days now.”

Bella pursed her lips. “Okay, but maybe they’re busy or something.”

“Except even when she’s-”

Her eyes lit up. “She? It’s a girl?”

 _Shit._

He sighed heavily. “Yes, Bella. I have a friend who is a girl.”

“So… a girlfriend then.”

He shook his head, coughing, trying to dispel the tightness that had suddenly clenched his throat. 

“No, a friend who is a girl. Not a girlfriend.” His sister’s mouth opened, and he knew she was about to start peppering questions at him. “She’s an archeologist, and she uses my maps,” he explained, cutting her off. “Really more of a colleague than a friend. She’s been in a few times now, and we text, just work stuff mostly.” 

That wasn’t entirely accurate, but he decided to keep that to himself. “But now she’s been in the Red Waste in the middle of the desert for the last month, and she’s never gone this long without responding even when she says she’s really busy, so I’m just a little bit… concerned is all.”

Bella’s face had morphed from amused to understanding, her eyes softening and her mouth curving up in a small smile. “Have you tried calling?”

He shook his head again. 

“Why not?”

“It’s just not a thing that we do, Bella. We text. We don’t call.” 

She shrugged. “If you’re really that worried about her, just call.”

He frowned, considering it. He _could_ call. He had her number. He could pick up the phone and dial. There was literally nothing stopping him. “I don’t know if that would be overstepping,” he said after a moment. 

“Give me your phone,” she said, holding her hand out. 

His eyebrows narrowed, and he glared at her suspiciously. “What are you going to do?”

“Relax, moron. I’m not going to call her. Or text her,” she added. “I want to see what her texts are like.”

Instinctively, he drew back, immediately wanting to protest, to assert that it was private, that it was none of Bella’s fucking business what he talked about with Arya. “Why?”

“I’ll tell you if you’re overstepping.”

The thought gave him pause, and he frowned, turning it over in his mind. It _wasn’t_ any of her business, but he really was worried about Arya, and Bella was much better at people than he was. Reluctantly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and passed it over. “Fine. But no commentary. Just-” He cut himself short, unable to voice exactly what it was he was feeling. 

She nodded, opening his messages. “Arya? Is that her?’

He nodded, watching as she scrolled quickly through his text conversation with Arya. Her face remained impassive, although he thought he saw her mouth twitch a few times. After what felt like far too long, she passed the phone back. “Call her.”

He frowned. “You sure?”

Bella rolled her eyes and fixed him with an exasperated look. “Call. Her.”

Gendry hmphed and crossed his arms. “I’ll think about it.” 

***

There was no answer. It didn’t even go to voicemail. It just rang and rang and rang. He hung up after the twentieth ring, and when he tried again an hour later, all he got was an odd clicking noise. He really was starting to worry now. She’d not texted back. Her Instagram, that he definitely hadn’t been stalking, hadn’t been updated in over a week. And now her phone wasn’t even ringing through. 

The sliver of disquiet that had been lurking grew when he tried two more times before going to bed, expanding into a thick ball of dread that left him restless and unable to settle. It wasn’t until after midnight that he finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, vague images of some shadowy threat plaguing his dreams.

He was startled awake by the vibrations of his phone under his pillow. Bleary eyed, he blindly groped for it, squinting at the screen to see who in the seven hells could be calling him at 4 AM. 

_Unknown number_. 

He almost declined the call.

“ _What?_ ” he snapped, his voice was raspy and thick with sleep, his irritation obvious.

“Oh, shit. I forgot about the time difference. It’s like ten in the morning here.”

He was instantly alert, pulling himself up and rubbing his hand over his face. “Arya?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Go back to sleep.”

A powerful sense of relief rushed through him, and his whole body seemed to sag under the weight of it. “Are you all right?”

She huffed out a humorless laugh. “Sure. If you consider having your phone trampled by wild horses, getting caught in a sand storm for two days resulting in your transportation being buried up to the windshield and unable to start once we finally dug it out, then having to hike across some ten miles of desert to the nearest outpost with all your stuff that you managed to salvage from the storm, all while putting up with a nutcase intern who I’m pretty sure is in some kind of death cult and won’t stop trying to recruit me as all right. Then, yeah. I’m totally all right.”

“Holy shit,” he breathed, fully awake now. “Sounds like you’ve had a rough time of it.”

“No kidding.” 

He could hear what sounded like a city in the background. “Where are you?”

“Qarth. I had to get a new phone, since mine is in literal pieces. I’m just relieved everything was backed up, so I didn’t have to try to remember anyone’s number.”

Gendry let out a long breath. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was starting to wonder if something had happened to you.” 

“Worried about me, Waters?” she teased, but she didn’t wait for a response, and Gendry was grateful he didn’t have to come up with one. “Anyway, the dig’s been cancelled for now, so I’m taking some time off to go home for a bit. See the family and all.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, I guess.”

“Yeah, I just-” She cut herself off, before clearing her throat and continuing. “I wanted to let you know I probably won’t be by for a while.”

“Right.” A tinge of disappointment flitted over him, and he frowned. “Well, thanks for letting me know.”

“Yeah.” 

They were silent for a moment before they both began speaking at once. 

“Well, I guess-”

“How are-”

She laughed. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

He’d been on the verge of hanging up, but he pushed that thought away. “It can wait,” he said, pulling himself out of bed and grabbing a pair of sweatpants. “Tell me about the Red Waste.”

***

They talked for so long that the light started creeping in his window, the sun peeking over the horizon. He yawned, his attempt at stifling it failing spectacularly. 

“Shit, Gendry,” she exclaimed apologetically. “I’ve been rambling on forever, and I woke you up at… Wait. What time was it when I called?”

“Uh. Four?”

Arya yelped. “Four?! Gods, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say something? You’ve got to be exhausted.”

“No, I’m fine,” he said, another yawn escaping him, and she laughed. 

“You’re not fine. Go back to bed, stupid.” Her voice had gone soft, and he yawned again.

“You better be glad it’s Saturday,” he said, padding over to his bed and climbing back under the covers. “I’d be properly pissed with you if you’d woke me that early up on a work day.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” 

He yawned again. “No, I wouldn’t,” he mumbled, pulling the covers up over his head and closing his eyes.

“Get some sleep, Gendry. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Arya?”

“Hmm?”

He felt himself slipping away, sleep pulling him down. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

***

They talked now. Not as much as they texted, which was daily, but two or three, sometimes four times a week, she’d call him or he’d call her, and they’d talk. She was back in Winterfell, thinking about applying to grad school and busily researching her next archeological endeavour, though she refused to tell him what it was. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to tell anyone what it is yet. I’ve got a really intriguing lead, but it might not pan out, so I don’t want to jinx it.” 

He chuckled. “I guess I can understand that, but you can’t blame me for being curious.” 

“I promise you’ll be the first to know, how’s that?”

Gendry smiled, feeling unexpectedly pleased at her words. “I’m holding you to it, then.”

There was a sudden scrabbling noise and a sound like the phone dropping, then Arya shrieked, “Nymeria, no!” 

He heard a loud crash followed by even louder swearing then her voice came over the line breathless and a little panicked. “I gotta go. It looks like she might have just destroyed my mum’s flower bed. She’s covered in dirt, and I’m pretty sure she’s got a mouthful of pansies. I need to clean up the mess she just made. I’ll text you later?”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, grinning at the mental image of Arya’s direwolf eating flowers. “Good luck with all that.”

“Thanks,” she said ruefully. “Pretty sure I’m gonna need it. Have fun with your sisters, okay?” 

***

Mya had been in Dorne for a conference, stopping for one night in King’s Landing before heading back to the Vale, and Bella had strong armed him into going out for dinner instead of eating at her place like they normally did. He enjoyed his two older sisters’ company for the most part. He really did, but both of them at the same time combined with being out in public surrounded by other people? Gendry was having some serious regret over having agreed to this dinner.

“So, Gendry. Bella tells me you’ve made a new friend?” Mya was peering at him curiously across the table as they waited for their food.

A flood of irritation filled him, and he turned to glare at Bella. “Really?” he said accusingly.

“What? I’m proud of you. Getting out there and making friends,” she said. “It’s not healthy keeping to yourself all the time, and I’m just glad you’re making an effort.”

He bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I am,” he said hotly. 

Bella shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m still glad you’ve got a friend now.”

“I don’t appreciate you sharing my business with people,” he said, scowling at her, but she just gazed at him placidly. She was used to his moods by now, and normally he mostly appreciated her ability to brush off his grumpy nature, but he was having a hard time tamping down his irritation with her at the moment.

Mya, possibly sensing just how annoyed he was and wanting to head off an argument, leaned in. “So tell me, Bella, what’s new with you?”

He sat there, quietly fuming as his sisters caught up with each other, giving terse one or two word answers to the questions that were directed at him, and pushing his food around his plate. He was definitely regretting agreeing to this dinner, and he couldn’t wait for it to be over. He’d just about determined that he was going to leave, manners be damned when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

Pulling it out, he saw a message from Arya on the lock screen, an image attached, and he swiped it open to see a soaking wet Nymeria looking up at the camera from a bathroom floor, a towel wrapped around her and a mournful expression on her face.

**Arya: Don’t let this pitiful face fool you. She totally deserved this bath**

Gendry let out a huff of amusement and grinned at the sight of Arya’s massive direwolf looking like a scolded puppy.

**Gendry: So what’d she do?**

**Arya: She tore up all the flowers that my mum planted yesterday, and now I have to go back to the nursery tomorrow to replace them all** **  
****Arya: She’s lucky she’s so cute** **  
****Arya: Are you having a good time?**

He looked up to see both of his sisters watching him closely. “What?”

Bella and Mya exchanged a glance that he did not like the look of, but Mya just shook her head and said, “Nothing” before turning back to Bella and diving back into a description of the conference.

He turned his attention back to his phone, trying to decide how honest he should be.

**Gendry: Eh**

**Arya: That bad?**

**Gendry: It’s just a lot right now**

**Arya: Well, you’re probably almost done, right? Just stick it out a bit longer and then you can go home and not speak to anyone until Monday morning.**

He stared down at her words, a sudden lightness filling his chest, and he let out a long breath, his ill temper draining out of him, leaving behind a strange sense of contentment.

**Gendry: Yeah, you’re right**

**Arya: I always am** **  
****Arya: Call me later?**

Gendry tapped out a reply, promising to call when he got home and tucked his phone back into his pocket before leaning in and joining the conversation, grateful when neither of his sisters brought up his abrupt change in mood.

He ended up staying longer than he intended to, not having seen Mya in over a year and glad for the chance to catch up. 

“You should come up to the Vale to see me sometime,” she said, hugging him goodbye. “You know you’re always welcome.”

Gendry frowned as he pulled back. “Maybe.”

She chuckled. “It was good to see you, Gendry.” She paused, her face screwing up as if she was debating something. “Was that your friend who texted you earlier?”

He scowled, but nodded. 

Mya stared at him appraisingly. “She’s good for you then. Don’t chase her off, okay?”

Gendry frowned again, surprised at her bluntness. 

“Look,” she said, “I love you, but you’re an ass. You’re brusque and irritable and almost completely incapable of hiding how much you despise being around people. It nearly takes an act of the gods to get you out of a bad mood. But one text from her, and I swear, your entire being changed. If she can make you smile like that...” She gave him a wry smile and reached out to clasp his hand. “Just- Keep her around if you can.”

He thought about Mya’s words. He thought about them when he talked to Arya late into the night. He thought about them when she texted him just to say “good morning.” He thought about them when he sat at work, staring at her arrowhead or pulling out a map of a place she’d been. He thought about them at home when he sat watching TV fiddling with her dragonglass dagger. And he thought about them when he was falling asleep at night, drifting off to dreams he couldn’t quite remember when he woke. 

He thought about them so much that he hardly thought of anything else at all. 

And he wasn’t sure what to think about that.


	5. Chapter 5

He stopped dead at the sight of her leaning against the map room door, smirking at his stupefied expression. He hadn’t been expecting her for another three days, but there she was, hair windblown and wild, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed from the cold, and despite the chill lingering in his bones from the winter winds outside, Gendry suddenly felt warmer than he had in months. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Her mouth quirked up in a smile. “Nice to see you too,” she said, raising an amused eyebrow. “I finished up early in Harrenhal and decided to come on down here instead of hanging around there for a few more days. Took the train down late last night.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “So when you were telling me all about how amazing the Isle of Faces looked in the moonlight last night?”

“All lies.” She grinned at him. “Well, not entirely lies,” she conceded. “It did look pretty amazing in the moonlight two nights ago, but I have no idea what it looked like last night.”

He broke into a broad smile as she gazed up at him, eyes dancing. He’d been so looking forward to seeing her again. It’d been nearly six months, and her call the previous week to say she was coming down had left him buzzing in anticipation ever since.

And now she was here, standing in front of him with a cheeky grin and looking entirely too pleased with herself. 

Staring at her, he was struck with the completely ridiculous and entirely out of character notion that he should hug her, but before he could even begin to question why, she moved and threw her arms around his chest, squeezing tightly, and there was a jolt somewhere around his gut that suddenly gave a name to that odd warmth that flooded him every time she made him smile, every time she made him laugh. 

Attraction. Infatuation. Fascination.

_Well, shit._

He immediately quashed the thought, even as his instincts screamed at him to wrap his arms around her instead of awkwardly patting her on the back. There was no point to even entertaining that notion. He was a prickly bastard. No one really liked him other than his siblings, and even that was sometimes questionable. Maybe Davos. 

But women didn’t like him. They thought they would like him. He’d been approached enough to recognize that he wasn’t completely unappealing to the opposite sex. But they didn’t actually like him, nor did he particularly like any of them. And that was just fine with him. He didn’t want to like any of them. 

But he _liked_ Arya. He hadn’t liked anyone in a very long time, and he liked her. More than he’d ever liked anyone, he realized. And she liked him. Or he thought she did. 

But then, she liked everyone. Or she seemed to. From the sound of her stories, she had more friends than he could even begin to fathom. She had standing offers of a couch to crash on in at least twenty cities across the globe. Her Instagram (which he was definitely not stalking) had so many “miss you” comments and likes that he sometimes wondered how she had time for him at all. 

Mya’s comment about his reaction to her text had nagged at him, plagued his thoughts, and he’d come to the conclusion that it’d been so long since he’d enjoyed texts from anyone that of course he smiled over Arya’s. It didn’t _mean_ anything. Really. It didn’t. She was just his friend. 

She pulled back and smiled up at him, and he felt his heart stutter, followed swiftly by a sinking feeling that he couldn’t define. “It’s good to see you,” she said, her voice soft.

He blinked at her, pushing down the swirl of emotions that had just erupted in his chest at his realization and willing away any feelings he might be experiencing except happiness at seeing his _friend_ again.

“You too,” he said, smiling and pulling out his keys to unlock the door. He followed her in, watching as she set her bag down on a table and turned to eye him, an impish expression on her face.

“So. You finally going to tell me what you're after this time, Stark?” he asked.

Her eyes were gleaming as she leaned in close. “Dark Sister,” she whispered conspiratorially. 

“ _What?”_ He stared at her. “Are you serious?”

She nodded, her body practically vibrating with excitement. “I came across a very, very, _very_ old journal that mentions a sword in a cave north of the Wall, and from the description, I think it might actually be Dark Sister.”

The lost Valyrian sword of Visenya Targaryen was one of the great mysteries of Westeros, its whereabouts unknown for over a millenia and generally considered to be something of a pipe dream for historians. Handed down through the family, it was eventually given to Brynden Rivers, one of Aegon IV’s great bastards who went on to become the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. As far as anyone knew, it had disappeared with him somewhere beyond the Wall, leaving no trace behind. 

Until now, apparently. 

“You’re telling me that you found Dark Sister?” he asked incredulously.

The triumph on her face turned uncertain, and she tilted her head from side to side as if she wasn’t quite sure of the answer. 

“Eh,” she said, drawing out the sound. “Maybe?”

He stared at her for a moment then moved to sit at one of the tables, gesturing at the chair beside him. “Tell me,” he said.

So she did. She’d found a crumbling journal, buried on one of the lower shelves in the back row of the Winterfell library. “I don’t think anyone had touched those particular books in centuries, except to maybe brush over it with a duster once in a while. It was practically glued to the books around it.” 

Gendry cringed, the thought of ancient volumes just left sitting on a shelf, out in the open and nowhere near a climate controlled environment. “You can skip that part,” he said. “You’ll give me nightmares.” 

She laughed and reached into her bag to pull out her laptop. “I couldn’t bring the actual journal, too fragile,” she explained as she set her computer down on the table between them and opened it up. “But I’ve got scans and transcriptions of the important bits.” She clicked a folder and a number of images filled the screen, tiny thumbnails of yellowing parchment and faded brown ink. 

“So this seems to have been written by a lady from House Reed after the fact, and it is allegedly the account of a journey she took north of the Wall with a Stark sometime before the Long Night.” She stopped, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. “It’s all actually kind of… unbelievable. Wights and greenseers and Children of the Forest.”

Gendry’s eyebrows knit together skeptically, and she gave him a sheepish look. “I know, I know,” she said. “I initially thought it was just someone’s creative writing experiment, a way to pass the time for a lady who might not have been allowed to do much else, but then I found some other accounts of a Stark ancestor going north beyond the Wall with some Reeds before the Long Night. So I took a closer look, and it’s just…” She trailed off, looking at him like she was afraid he was going to laugh at her. “There’s something here, Gendry. I _know_ it.” 

He stared at her a long moment and then slowly nodded. “All right. So what do you need from me?” 

Arya’s face relaxed, and she let out a long breath. “There are some old maps from the Watch here from around that time period, when they started working with the Free Folk instead of fighting them.” She clicked over to her browser that was already open to a topographical map of beyond the Wall. “I’ve looked at the current geography, and I think that they must have been somewhere in the Haunted Forest. There’s references to crossing a river several times, and a lake with an abandoned fishing village and some other geographical markers, but things change over the centuries. Lakes can drain and rivers can change course.”

He’d started nodding along as she talked. “So you need to see what the land looked like then.”

“Exactly.”

“All right then,” he said, pushing himself back from the table and standing. “I know the maps you’re talking about, so just give me a few minutes to get everything opened up, and I’ll pull them for you.”

Fifteen minutes later, he found her bending over a stack of transcribed pages, a highlighter in one hand and a look of intense concentration on her face. 

“You can’t-” he began, frowning at the highlighter. 

“Have that in here, I know,” she said, cutting him off and grinning up at him as she put the cap on and buried it deep in her bag. “Pencils only. I remember.” She gathered up the papers and set them to the side before turning her full attention to him. “What do you have for me?”

He wheeled the cart over to the side of the room and lifted the first large folder from the top of the stack, setting it down in front of her, then tossed her a pair of cotton gloves before pulling one on himself. “There’s about twenty different maps I think we should look at. This one is the largest, but it’s also the least detailed as it covers the most area.” He opened the folder, revealing a large hand drawn map. “It’s got the basics, rivers and lakes and forested areas, but not much more. We’ll have to look at the other ones for that, but I thought we could start with this one and maybe try to narrow down the area before we look at the others.”

He turned to see her watching him, head propped up in her hand and eyes bright with something he couldn’t name, and he flushed. “What?”

Arya’s lips curved up in a small smile, and her head tilted. “We? You gonna help me with this?”

Embarrassed uncertainty rushed through him. “Oh,” he said. “I hadn’t-”

“Because I don’t expect you to, you know. I mean,” she continued, “I’d love it if you did, but don’t you have work to do?”

Gendry thought about the emails that needed answering, the grant proposal that needed researching, the new maps that needed cataloging, and he shook his head. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

She beamed at him, and his stomach lurched in a strange combination of elation and dismay. He couldn’t fall for her. He _couldn’t._ There was no way it would end well. Pushing down the conflicting emotions, he drew himself up. “So where should we start?”

They worked together, heads bent over the maps laid out on several tables, moving back and forth between them, the journal, current satellite images of the area, and the topographical map she had pulled up as they tried to chart out the path taken long ago. 

It was meticulous work, and Gendy was soon enthralled with it, lost in the minutiae of it all. Although, he did find himself glancing over at Arya more and more, just as enthralled with the way she chewed on her bottom lip and the little scrunch of her nose when she was thinking very hard. She almost caught him staring, more than once, but he’d quickly avert his gaze and feign a deep interest in whatever was in front of him at the moment. And more than once, he swore he could feel her eyes on him, but when he’d look up, she’d be staring intently at something else, her cheeks flushed with concentration, and he’d feel a sort of relieved disappointment.

They almost missed lunch, both of them so engrossed in what they were doing, that it wasn’t until his stomach grumbled loudly that they realized how long they’d been working and took a break, but “We’ll just pop out for a quick bite” somehow ended in them not returning until almost two hours later.

Arya had a few phone calls to make, so he busied himself straightening up some of the mess they’d made earlier, picking up balled up pieces of paper and trying to organize some of their notes while she spoke quietly into her phone on the other side of the room. He was in the middle of rearranging the maps into a more logical order when her voice rose, her harsh tone cutting through his thoughts.

“Leave it,” she said, clearly irritated with whoever it was on the end of the line. “It’s not like that. No, just-” She stopped, listening for a moment then sighed, her shoulders drooping in resignation. “Yeah, I know, I will.” She was quiet again. “I said I will,” she snapped. “Now _leave it_. Yeah. You too. Bye.” She hung up and turned around, her face flushing red when she saw him watching her. 

“Everything all right?” he asked, a little concerned, but she just nodded and let out a long breath. 

“Just my sister,” she explained, frowning down at her phone before tucking it into her back pocket. “Thinking she knows best again. Gods know I love her, but she just can’t resist sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

He chuckled lightly. “Bella does the same thing,” he said, and her mouth quirked up in a half grin. 

“Sisters,” she said in an exasperated tone.

“Sisters,” he echoed, grinning back at her.

They stared at each other for a moment before she pulled herself up. “Right. Should we get back to it?”

***

She was leaning over the table, lamenting the lack of Free Folk records when she suddenly stood bolt upright. “Oh, I forgot!” she exclaimed, and moved to grab her bag from where she’d set it on the floor. “I brought this for you,” she said, pulling out a fabric wrapped bundle and handing it over. 

Gendry took it curiously, carefully unwrapping it to reveal what was clearly an ancient stone axe head. His eyes shot to hers, and she smiled. 

“You don’t need to bring me things like this to get me to help you, you know,” he said, running his fingers over its cool surface and turning it over in his hands, examining the few tool marks that hadn’t been worn smooth over the years. 

“I know,” she said, her voice unexpectedly soft, and he looked up at her again, holding her gaze as warmth flooded through him. “But,” she continued after a moment, glancing away and her voice almost a little bit too loud, “I wanted you to have it. It’s from the Free Folk, dated from around the fifth century, and it’s pretty rare for these to be seen outside of the North.” 

“I’ve never seen one.”

She smiled. “I thought that might be the case,” she said. “I found it on my first real dig when I was about thirteen. That was when I _knew_ I wanted to be an archeologist.”

Startled, he stared at her. “Arya, I can’t take this-” he began, but she just waved his words away. 

“Yes, you can. I want you to have it.”

“But-”

“No,” she said firmly. “It’s yours.”

He blinked, unsure how to express just how touched he was by the gesture. Her two previous gifts had seemed like, not afterthoughts exactly, but more like gifts of convenience. Things she’d found recently and didn’t need or want. 

But this?

This was something else entirely. This felt… weighty, significant somehow, and he was completely lost as to what it might mean.

He stared at her, the silence stretching between them as his mind searched for an answer, for the words, for the courage to ask. “I-” He stopped and frowned at her. 

Arya met his gaze, her wide grey eyes locked on his, an expression he couldn’t define on her face, and he felt his gut tighten, his heartbeat stutter, his breath quicken. He blinked slowly, and when he opened his eyes, he thought he saw hers darting back up, as if she’d just glanced at his lips, but it was so quick, he couldn’t be sure. 

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak the door to the map room opened, and he pulled his eyes away from her, turning to see Davos standing in the doorway, eyes darting between them, a penetrating look in them that Gendry pretended not to see. 

He glanced back at Arya, but she was already moving to greet Davos, smiling widely and hands outstretched leaving Gendry standing alone, the stone axe head in his hands seemingly already forgotten. 

Sighing, he carefully placed it on the table before turning to join them, and by the time Davos left, the moment between them had been completely lost, and Gendry was left to wonder if he’d only imagined it all. 

***

They threw themselves back into it, managing to trace a possible path from the Nightfort to a vague area of the Haunted Forest, but it wasn’t enough. There just wasn’t enough information. 

“So, it sounds like the cave was beneath a grove of weirwoods, high up on a hill,” he mused, flipping through the stack of journal printouts, then leaning over to scan several of the maps in front of him, taking note of the numerous symbols that indicated where weirwoods had once grown. He sighed heavily, gesturing to the map in front of him. “If only a grove of weirwoods was a rare thing beyond the Wall,” he said sarcastically.

She laughed, and he turned to see her smiling up at him, her cheek propped up in her hand. “If only the Haunted Forest had a search function,” she teased.

He chuckled, but stopped as a thought struck him. “The website, with the topographical info, it has a search function, doesn’t it?”

Arya cocked her head to the side, and her eyes knit together in thought then widened as realization hit her. “Oh my gods, Gendry, you’re a genius!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet, her hands raised in triumph “If we can limit the elevation-”

“And we can overlay that with the known weirwood groves-”

“Taking into account the other geographical markers the journal mentioned-”

“Using the mapping software I’ve got to pull it all together-”

“Then we should be able to narrow things down by like, a lot,” she finished, her face full of joy.

It took hours, cross referencing the older maps with the current ones, meticulously entering latitude and longitude in the laptop he’d set up on a nearby table, examining each result as closely as they could on the latest satellite images, but by the end of the night (well past closing time) they had three solid possibilities and maybe ten or so that had potential if those didn’t pan out. 

Arya was jubilant, practically glowing with a sense of achievement, and Gendry couldn’t blame her, nor could he keep the grin off his face every time he looked at her. 

“I couldn’t have done this without your help,” she said after he’d put up the maps and locked everything up. “I’m buying you dinner, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

The thought had never even crossed his mind.

***

“So when will you start looking for it?” 

They were back at the diner, having just worked through several slices of pie, but neither one of them seemed ready to leave just yet. 

“As soon as I can,” she said, gently blowing on her steaming cup of coffee. “I feel like, if I don’t do it right away, then it might just disappear on me. Which is kind of dumb, considering how long it’s been there.”

His mouth twisted up in amusement. “Will you have to wait for your team? Or funding? How does all that work?”

She shook her head. “This isn’t going to be an official trip just yet. I’m not telling anyone about this unless I actually find the cave.”

He frowned, considering it. “I guess that makes sense,” he said. “So what will you do?”

“The Haunted Forest is public land. People are allowed to camp there year round, so I’m just going to go camping.” 

“In the middle of winter?!” He stared at her, a little appalled at the thought of camping out in the frozen North, but she just laughed. 

“It’s not that bad if you know what you’re doing,” she said. “It hasn’t snowed nearly as much this year, so it’s not like I’d be dealing with that. And I mean, it’s cold, but this is one of the warmer winters we’ve had recently, so it’s not _bitterly_ cold.” 

“You’ve done it before then?”

She nodded. “When I was younger, my dad used to take us up beyond the Wall every winter to see the lights, and we’d occasionally camp out. But,” she continued, “I probably won’t have to sleep out in the cold. There are service roads all over the forest, and I should just be able to hike to the spots and back in a day. Plus, there are rangers cabins too.”

He frowned again. “Are those open to the public?”

Her face turned sheepish, and she shook her head. “No. But when your cousin is Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, they tend to look the other way when you do things like that.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she flushed. “I don’t usually-” she began, but he just laughed. 

“I know that now,” he said, waving away her explanation. “And I can’t say I would blame you in the slightest for using that connection to avoid sleeping out in subzero temperatures.” He stopped, a question he’d always wondered about surfacing in his mind. “I guess you’ve seen the Wall before then,” he said.

Her eyes lit up, and she nodded.

“What’s it like?”

Her face screwed up in thought. “It’s… hard to describe,” she said, chewing on her lip. “It’s massive. Like, you’ve seen pictures, so you think you have an idea of how big it is, but then you see it, and it’s just… massive. Beyond massive. Everything is so _big_ and vast and wild, and there’s no way to do it justice with mere words.”

He stared at her, an odd feeling of longing curling up in his chest. “I’ve never been North,” he said. “Never really been anywhere.”

She gazed at him for a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip, as if she were trying to come to a decision. “You could come with me,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“To try to find the cave. You could come with me.”

He stared at her, a little startled at her invitation, at the notion that she’d want him around outside of… whatever this was. A tiny bubble emerged in his chest.

“Yeah?” he asked, knitting his eyebrows together, and she nodded, the bubble expanding.

“It’s not exactly an official trip,” she said, reaching up and tucking her hair behind her ear, “so there’d be no issues with that, and I- I’d really like it if you came along.”

He blinked at her uncertainly, the bubble growing larger the longer he stared at her, filling him with a growing sense of hope that she just might, in fact, want him around. 

“I mean,” she said suddenly, breaking his gaze and frowning down at her cup of coffee. “You are a map expert, and I could really use one of those. Especially considering I can’t tell my usual one about this.” 

The bubble burst, dejection washing over him as he realized with a sinking gloom that he had likely misunderstood everything. _He was a map expert._ And she needed one, and this was nothing more than a casually friendly, professional relationship. 

A quiet part of his brain protested, citing their many texts, their late night phone conversations, the stone axe head that surely meant _something_ , but a louder, more pragmatic voice shouted it down. That was just how she was. She liked everyone, but it wasn’t like that. _People simply didn’t like him like that._ They were friends and colleagues. Nothing more, and he was going to have to deal with his feelings on his own.

He hummed uncertainly, mentally pulling himself back. “I don’t know,” he said, trying to sound casual, to belie the disappointment surging through him. “I’ve got a lot of things coming up at work, so it’s not really a good time to take any kind of leave.”

Arya’s face was impassive as she stared down at the table, and she just nodded. “Yeah. I figured,” she said quietly, turning to grab her bag. “It was just a thought,” she said. “Anyway, it’s late, and I’ve really got to get going.” She slid out of the booth and gave him a small smile. “Thanks for your help today, Gendry. I really do appreciate it.”

“Well, that’s what they pay me for,” he said, half heartedly, and she frowned. 

“Yeah.” She turned to go, but then stopped, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Think about it, though. Coming along. You’d be welcome to if you change your mind.” 

He watched her go silently, wanting desperately to run after her, but fearing what would happen if he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as part of the Gendrya Big Bang, and I have to thank Tumblr user coffegost so much for this gorgeous illustration for this chapter. It's beautiful, and I love all the little details she included. 
> 
> Check her out [here](https://coffegost.tumblr.com/post/623398990444216320/read-me-carefully-follow-me-closely-doubt-me).


	6. Chapter 6

“You are a fucking idiot. You know that, right?”

Bella was standing at her stove, hands on hips and a completely exasperated expression on her face. She’d dragged it out of him. Most of it, anyway. It’d been two weeks since he’d seen Arya, and while they still texted, they hadn’t spoken since, and their messages had turned somewhat stilted.

He’d been in an exceptionally foul mood ever since. 

“Thanks, Bell. Love you too,” he said, scowling at her, and she rolled her eyes. 

“She’s shown you things she’s not supposed to show anyone and let you hold them.” She lifted her hand and started ticking her points off on her fingers. “She’s brought you three pieces of ancient weaponry, one of which has great sentimental value just because she thought you’d like them. She texts you all the time. She talks to you several times a week for _hours_ . And she invited you to come along on a trip. Just you and her. Alone in the wilderness. And you think it was just a professional courtesy? That she’s using you for your _expertise?_ ” She scoffed and turned back to the sauce she was stirring. “You really are a fucking idiot.”

“I’m not-”

“You are,” she said matter of factly, dismissing him completely, and irritation surged through him. 

He stood, pushing himself back from her kitchen table and stalked over to stare out of her window, glowering at the people on the sidewalks down below. What did she know anyway?

Dinner was quiet. Mostly just Bella telling him about her latest workplace drama as he sulked, though he did manage a smile when Barra skyped them right before he left.

His sour mood returned, however, when Bella walked him to the door. “I know you don’t want to hear this, so I’m only going to say it once, and after that I’ll mind my business,” she said, fixing him with a pointed look. “Pull your head out of your ass, take some time off, and get on a plane to go find whatever it is she wants you to help her find. Maybe it’ll be horrible and awkward and you’ll never speak to her again.”

He frowned, a heavy thickness curling up in his gut at the thought, and she continued.

“Or maybe, it turns out to be the best decision you’ll ever make.” She stopped, leaning in slightly. “And wouldn’t you rather _know?”_

***

_Wouldn’t you rather know?_

_Wouldn’t you rather know?_

_Wouldn’t you rather know?_

Bella’s words echoed in his head all weekend. They rattled around his brain while he showered. They whispered in his ear as he drifted off to sleep. They shouted after him on his early morning run, even as he tried to escape them. 

_Wouldn’t you rather know?_

The question burrowed its way into his mind, taking root and spreading tendrils over his thoughts, covering them like some kind of invasive vine, muffling everything except itself.

What should he have for dinner? _Wouldn’t you rather know?_ How should he respond to that email? _Wouldn’t you rather know?_ Which shirt went better with those pants? _Wouldn’t you rather know?_ Would that map of the Iron Islands be a good addition to their collection? _Wouldn’t you rather know?_

By the time he got to work Monday morning, he could hardly think of anything else. He was consumed with Bella’s question.

_Wouldn’t you rather know?_

He sat, staring blankly at the edge of her stone axe head just visible from where he’d shoved it behind his monitor, hardly even looking up when Davos entered and dropped a stack of paperwork on his desk. 

“Lad, are you all right?” he asked gently, and Gendry frowned. “You’ll pardon me for saying so, but you’ve been remarkably surly these past few weeks.”

Gendry didn’t respond right away, just kept his eyes trained on the sliver of stone. 

“If I needed to,” he said slowly. “Could I take some time off?”

***

Davos had readily agreed, assuring Gendry that he was more than capable of handling his duties if necessary, for as long as necessary. 

He could barely call what he did that day work, puttering about his office and half heartedly answering emails as he deliberated over what he should do. It was nearly time to lock up when his eye fell on the cabinet that held the maps he and Arya had poured over, and he felt his heart clench up at the memory of the way she’d been looking at him as they worked, head propped up, a soft smile on her face, and it suddenly occurred to him that those were not the only copies of the maps. 

That they were, in fact, contemporary copies of the originals that, as far as he knew, were still housed in the library at Castle Black. The same Castle Black that was currently under the command of her cousin. That was very much closer to Winterfell. That was probably far easier to travel to than King’s Landing.

The realization hit him hard, and he almost stumbled. She had to know that. There was no way she hadn’t known that. Which meant that coming all the way down to King’s Landing, thousands of miles further than she needed to, to use those maps, _his_ maps, that had to mean something, didn’t it? 

_Wouldn’t you rather know?_ Bella’s words washed over him, and he decided that no matter the outcome, he would rather know. 

He pulled out his phone and opened her contact info, pressing the call button immediately before he could talk himself out of it. It rang once, twice, three times, and then there was a brief silence before she spoke.

“Hello?” Her voice was cautious, and he felt a twinge of regret. She’d never used that tone with him before.

“Hey,” he said softly. For a moment, he didn’t speak, unsure of how to ask. “Does the offer still stand?” 

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Of course it does,” she said, and he let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

“Good.”

“Good.”

They were both silent. 

“Uh,” he said. “So what now?”

Arya laughed, the sound flowing over him and filling him with an almost painful sense of relief. “Well,” she said, “I’m still trying to work out some details with Jon, but the weather forecast is predicting a clear couple of weeks, so I was planning on leaving here some time this weekend to head up that way. Would that give you enough time to get up here?”

They worked out the logistics rather quickly. Gendry would fly up to Winterfell on Friday, while Arya would procure all the equipment that he would need, parkas and thermals and the like. From there, they’d take a smaller plane up to Castle Black on Saturday where her cousin would get them set up with a vehicle and accommodations and anything else they’d need.

“So I’ll pick you up on Friday then?” 

He could hear the smile in her voice, and he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of it wash over him. 

“Friday,” he confirmed, already wishing it wasn’t quite so far away. 

***

The Winterfell airport was much smaller than the one in King’s Landing, but after several hours in the air, crammed next to a man who likely hadn’t showered in a year and wouldn’t shut up about how he was going North to _commune with the first men_ which as far as Gendry could tell, meant living in the woods like some kind of hermit, he was completely on edge, and even the smaller crowds had him ready to snap.

But one look at Arya’s smiling face waiting for him beside the baggage claim, and he felt the tension in his shoulders drain away. 

“Hey!” she said, her eyes sparkling as she stepped forward to meet him. For a moment, he thought she was going to hug him, but then her hands dropped back to her sides and her feet shuffled awkwardly as they stared at each other. 

“Gendry!” They both turned, and he groaned at the sight of his seatmate approaching. He took an involuntary step backwards, and braced himself as the man stopped in front of him, hands clasped over his heart. “Gendry, I’m so glad we met,” he said in an overly sincere tone before breaking into a harsh, almost guttural language. When he finished, he smiled beatifically at him and bowed his head. “I have given you the blessing of the first men,” he said, then turned and wandered off into the crowd, leaving a faint mix of herbs and body odor in his wake. 

“What the fuck was that?” Arya was staring at him with wide eyes, and she looked like she was barely holding back bewildered laughter. 

“He sat next to me on the plane, and I’m pretty sure he said his name was Oak Tree, but I blocked out a lot of it, so I could be wrong.” 

She chuckled. “Well, I have no idea what he was intending to say, but he just told you that he, uh, enjoys the _company_ of snow bears.” And she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

He blinked and then barked out a laugh, suddenly grateful for Oak and his oblivious intrusion, for breaking the awkwardness between them. “Honestly,” he said, rubbing his hand over his face, “I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if that was what he actually meant. He talked almost the entire flight, no matter how rude I was, and he’s…” He gestured helplessly in the direction of Oak Tree and grimaced.

Arya’s face softened into a gentle expression as she looked up at him, and he felt his gut flip. “You must be exhausted, then,” she said. “Come on.”

***

It was a good fifty minutes from the airport to Winterfell Castle itself, but it hardly felt like it. She sat quietly and didn’t say a word, music playing softly in the background as the residual stress and irritation from Oak and his herbal scented ramblings slowly drifted away. After about fifteen minutes, he shifted in his seat, and Arya turned to glance at him. 

“All right?” she asked, and he nodded, a little bewildered that she’d somehow instinctively picked up on his change in mood. “Good,” she said, taking her eyes off the road again briefly to glance at him. “I’m really glad you came.”

He was suddenly extremely glad that it got dark earlier this far North, and that there was no way she could see the flush on his face. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Me too.”

Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and he saw her lips curve up in a small smile, her chin tucking downwards for a moment before she pulled her shoulders back and threw him an apologetic look.

“So,” she said, “Let me warn you what you’re getting into tonight.”

***

Arya stayed glued to his side the entire night, a fact that he was extraordinarily thankful for given the sheer number of family members she had. Three brothers, a sister, a sister in law, two nieces and a nephew, and of course, her parents, one of whom was basically the most important person in the entire North. Not to mention the direwolves, which intimidated him on an entirely different level. To Arya’s delight, Nymeria had taken to him immediately, a fact that he decided not to dwell too deeply on.

She walked him to the guest quarters ( _quarters_ , not just a room - he was still trying to wrap his mind around growing up in an actual castle), and looked up at him biting her lip. “You okay?” she asked, the concern in her voice evident, and he let out a long breath and gave a slow, deliberate nod. 

“Yeah, I think I am,” he said. “They’re… a lot, but they’re nice.” Truthfully, despite his deep discomfort with being surrounded by that many people who seemed determined to get to know him, he’d been struck with a terrible longing for a childhood he’d never had. For loud, chaotic family dinners surrounded by siblings and parents that loved you and a house that he never had to worry about leaving on short notice because he’d lost his temper again. 

“They liked you,” she said, grinning up at him. 

“You think so?” He’d been on his absolute best behavior, intent on making, if not good, at least a halfway decent impression. 

She nodded. “My father especially. Sorry about Sansa, though.” 

Arya’s older sister had eyed him all night with a highly calculating look that he hadn’t cared for in the slightest, feeling like he was under a microscope as she threw questions at him over the roast chicken as if he were in a job interview. 

Gendry shuddered internally. “She’s… something,” he said, trying very hard to keep his voice neutral, and Arya’s expression turned slightly guarded. 

“You didn’t like her?” Her eyes were watching him almost cautiously, like she was afraid of his response, and he frowned. 

“No, it’s not that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I know she’s your sister, and I’m sure she’s perfectly pleasant, but I can’t see myself ever hanging out with her.” He stopped and gave her a lopsided grin. “Especially without you there.”

Arya’s shoulders dropped, her face relaxed, and her lips curled up in a smile. “Sorry you had to put up with so much chaos tonight, though.”

He shrugged, but he was touched by her concern, awed by her seemingly innate ability to recognize how hard things like that were for him, and fondness for her filled his chest. “It’s fine,” he said. “I signed up for this, remember?” 

Her eyes shone and she scrunched up her nose in amusement. “Get some sleep, Waters,” she said. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

***

It was still dark when they left, most of the castle still slumbering away, but Ned Stark was up to see them off, a twinkle in his eye and a travel mug of coffee in each hand. 

“Be careful, sweetling,” he said, leaning in and fixing Arya with a stern look. “Use your common sense, don’t do anything reckless, and for gods sake, make sure you keep the satellite phone charged.” 

“I know, dad,” she said, a hint of exasperation in her voice, but she was smiling as she leaned in to hug him. “It’s not my first time, you know.”

Her father smiled fondly at her as he pulled back and handed her one of the mugs. “I know that, but you’re still my baby girl, and I worry, so let me fuss a bit.” Turning to Gendry, he held out the other mug for him to take, and then stuck his hand out. “It was good to meet you, Gendry,” he said. “I’d tell you to take care of her, but-”

“Dad!” 

“-she’d kill me if I did.”

Gendry shook his head, chuckling slightly. “She’s far more competent than I am, sir. If anything, I’m afraid I’m going to hold her back, but I promise that I’ll do my best to keep her out of trouble.”

Arya huffed indignantly beside him, and he glanced over to see her glaring at him. He grinned apologetically at her and shrugged, laughing when she smacked his arm. 

A sleek black car, complete with uniformed driver was waiting to take them to the nearby airfield. Gendry’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw the private jet sitting on the tarmac as they pulled up next to it. He turned to stare at her, and she smiled sheepishly. 

“Seriously?” he asked weakly. “We’re flying in that?” She nodded, and he huffed in disbelief. “I should have known you were just another rich girl,” he teased.

Arya’s mouth quirked up, and she moved to open her door, sliding over and pulling herself out of the car. She turned and leaned in, smirking as she locked eyes with him. “You don’t know any other rich girls.”

***

The wheels had barely touched down at Castle Black, and Arya was practically bouncing in her seat in excitement. She bolted from her seat the moment they taxied to a stop and was out the door before he’d even unbuckled his seatbelt. By the time he made it to the top of the stairs, she was halfway across the runway, wrapped in Jon’s arms, and he was spinning her around, both of them laughing.

Gendry watched for a moment, smiling at her undeniable joy before climbing down the stairs and approaching the two cousins, one of whom was eyeing him appraisingly, the other smiling widely as he joined them.

“Jon, this is Gendry. Gendry, this is Jon.” Arya’s eyes were darting back and forth between them, almost anxiously.

“Arya’s told me a lot about you,” he said, reaching out to grasp Gendry’s hand. “It’s nice to finally put a face with the name.”

“Yeah. Same,” Gendry said, flushing a little at the revelation that she’d talked to anyone, let alone her cousin who clearly meant so much to her, about him. 

“Come on then,” he said, extending his arm and gesturing for Gendry to follow. “Let’s get you two set up.”

Gendry turned and stopped short, his mouth dropping open at the sight before him. They were still nearly a quarter mile away, but the Wall towered over them, shimmering brightly in the sunlight, like someone had covered it with millions of tiny fairy lights. 

“Fuck me,” he breathed. In the plane, he’d been so engrossed in conversation with Arya, that he’d neglected to try for a glimpse of the iconic structure, and now, standing awestruck in front of it, he was dimly pleased that he was seeing it for the first time from the ground. That he was able to get a true sense of its massive height. 

“Well?” Arya’s amused voice sounded in his ear, and he tore his eyes away from the Wall and turned to see her watching him, a small smile on her face. “Is it what you expected?”

He blinked at her, then turned back to boggle at the Wall, unable to articulate the overwhelming sense of wonder that had come over him. 

“Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand and tugging him to a waiting car. “We’re going to the top.”

***

Arya had been right. There were no words to do it justice. The wind was whipping wildly around him, cutting straight through his thick, heavy coat, chilling him to the bone. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He stood, staring out at the vast wilderness in front of him, feeling very small and very, very insignificant. 

“Wow,” he said softly, and he felt Arya shift beside him. “This is just… wow.” He turned to look at her, his breath catching in his throat at the look on her face, soft and open and almost tender as she gazed up at him. 

“I’m really glad I got to show it to you,” she said, and his chest almost ached at her words, affection for her spreading through him, warming him so much he barely noticed the cold. 

“It’s incredible,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “The most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice had dropped, and he knew he was no longer speaking of the Wall.

Arya’s cheeks were already bright pink from the wind, but he thought they might have flushed a little deeper at his words. She broke his gaze, looking down and biting her lip for a moment before lifting her head and giving him a small, almost shy smile. Turning to look out over the edge, she gestured at the vast openness, but his eyes were fixed on her profile. 

“There’s no better view in the world,” she said.

Privately, he had to agree. Rather a lot.

***

They didn’t stay long at Castle Black, long enough for lunch and for her cousin to extract a promise of a longer visit when they were through with their search. 

“You’re still not going to tell me what you’re after?” Jon asked as they were placing their bags in the back of the heavy duty SUV he’d provided them with. 

Arya laughed and shook her head. “Nope,” she said, pursing her lips and popping the “p” sound, and her cousin sighed heavily. 

“Pyp’s expecting you tonight,” he said. “You’ve got his number?” 

Arya nodded in assent, and he pulled her in for a quick hug. 

“Just be careful, all right?” he sighed, with the air of someone who knew his pleas were useless. “Send me your location before you go traipsing off into potential danger. Keep an eye on the time. Stick to the access roads as best you can, and call me immediately if you get in any trouble. All right?”

“Yes, _dad_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes, but hugging him back tightly before turning to where Gendry was waiting patiently. 

“Ready?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Last chance to back out, Waters.”

Gendry grinned back and shook his head vigorously before tilting it towards hers. “Not a chance, Stark,” he teased. “You’re stuck with me now, like it or not.”

Something he couldn’t identify passed over her face, but then she smiled and tossed him the keys. “You’re taking first shift.”

***

The ranger’s cabin they were going to be using as a home base was a good seven hour drive from Castle Black, and only a little over half of that was on the regular road system. They spent the last three hours of the drive traveling over what could only _very_ generously be defined as roads. Barely wide enough for their vehicle and flanked on either side by towering trees that arched over them, the unpaved road had an almost unworldly appearance. There was little in the way of geographical markers except the occasional turn off or really any kind of scenery at all beyond trees, trees, and more trees. In fact, the only way to be sure they were going the right way at all was the specialized GPS unit mounted against the dash. 

It was well past dark by the time they finally arrived, Jon’s friend Pyp welcoming them both with a smile, a roaring fire, and a thick, hearty stew that had Gendry’s stomach rumbling loudly the moment he caught a whiff of it. 

“I haven’t seen a soul in three months,” he said apologetically, ladling out bowls and passing them over to an extremely grateful Arya and Gendry before settling himself down in one of the mismatched chairs surrounding the chipped avocado green table. “So I might get a bit chatty.” 

Pyp had been an amateur actor before joining the Watch, and he entertained them during dinner with a variety of impressions that had them both laughing all night. Arya swore up and down that his moping impersonation of Jon was uncannily accurate, persuading him to let her film a bit for use as blackmail. 

If Gendry had any half-formed fantasies about curling up beside her, possibly forced to share a bed for warmth, they died the minute he saw the sleeping arrangements. Rough hewn bunks were built into the side of the cabin in a room that could sleep six. There would be no drowsy embraces in the middle of the night, not unless they involved the hot water bottles Pyp had pressed on them.

He drifted off, the distant howl of a wolf lulling him to sleep as the vision of her smiling face faded into his dreams.

***

They woke early, ate a quick breakfast, and headed out just as dawn was breaking bundled up in more layers than Gendry had ever worn in his life. There was an hour to drive plus another hour and a half to hike to reach the first possible location, and they both wanted to get started as early as possible.

The first day was a complete letdown. It was evident almost immediately upon arriving that there was no cave hidden beneath the hill, and Gendry couldn’t help the surge of disappointment that filled him. Arya, however, just shrugged. 

“I’m trying to keep my expectations low. This entire expedition is a longshot,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by her balaclava. “It’s partly why I haven’t told anyone what we’re looking for. So I don’t have to admit that I failed.”

Gendry blinked at her. “You haven’t told _anyone_?” 

She shook her head, the thin strip of skin visible between her snow goggles and her balaclava pink with cold. “No, no one knows except you.”

He blinked again, a little stunned, and he felt a stupidly pleased smile break across his face, suddenly grateful for the fact that his own face was similarly concealed. The idea that this was something no one else knew about, that this was only theirs had him feeling giddy and rather lightheaded the entire rest of the day.

The second day was similarly unproductive, and they returned to the cabin disheartened, but Gendry couldn’t help the feeling that the day hadn’t been entirely unsuccessful. Every time he looked over at her as they drove, the way her eyes softened and her lips curved up, the way his stomach flipped and his breath hitched, he got the unerring sense of inevitability.

It’d been there, hovering in the corner of his mind ever since he stepped off the plane and saw her face again. He’d tried to suppress it, to convince himself that he might be mistaken, that Bella was wrong, that he’d imagined the spark he felt, that the light in her eyes was nothing more than friendship. That he hadn’t completely fallen for her. But it was useless. He’d fallen hard, and they were heading towards something. He knew it, deep in his bones, and it was only a matter of time until they arrived at whatever it was. 

A part of him, an impatient, rather selfish part, wanted to skip all the preamble, all the dancing around each other, and cut to the chase. Another part of him was enjoying it, the dance, the long conversations in the SUV, the exchange of amused glances across the table as Pyp nattered on, the lingering looks in front of the fire before they turned in for the night. It felt a bit like they were taking the scenic route, he thought as he lay staring up at the rough wooden beams of the ceiling. And he couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset about that.

Across the room, Arya mumbled in her sleep, and he rolled on his side to face her. Through the dim light, he could just make out the shape of her lips, the curve of her nose, and he felt a glow fill his chest, spreading through him and warming him like nothing ever had. She was beautiful, yes, but beyond that, she was something he never thought he’d want, never thought he’d need, but he did want her, more than he’d ever wanted anything. He was reticent to voice anything stronger than want, than affection, but lying there, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept, he’d never come so close to putting a name to what he felt for her. 

***

There was an odd energy in the air as they drove away from the cabin on the third day, a sense of finality, that if they didn’t find it today, they never would. Arya was quiet as he drove, her knee bouncing with nerves and her face tense. He glanced over at her, giving her what he hoped was an encouraging smile, but he was finding it hard to settle the butterflies in his own gut. She returned his smile weakly, but then reached out to wrap her gloved hand over where his own rested on the steering wheel. The light pressure of her hand, even through two thick gloves, grounded him somehow, and he let out a long breath, his nerves temporarily abated. 

When the GPS finally dinged, announcing that they had _arrived at their destination_ , he let his foot off the gas, and pulled into the tiny turnoff at the edge of the unpaved road. He turned to meet her gaze, and a whole host of unspoken words passed between them as they stared at each other. For a long moment, neither of them moved, then Arya’s face set in determination and she pulled her shoulders back and gave him a blazing look. 

“Ready?”

“Always.”

***

There was a reason they had put this site off to the last day. It was the longest drive, and an even longer hike. Almost two and a half hours later, they found themselves at the bottom of a heavily wooded hill, staring up at the grove of weirwoods just barely visible on top of the snow covered slopes. 

“It’s steep,” she said, lifting her hand to point. “And see those rocks up there? She talked about the climb being steep and a lot of rocks on the side of the hill.” Her voice was restrained, but he could feel the underlying excitement in her tone, the almost desperate hope that this was it. It was creeping into him as well, and then his heart was suddenly racing, pounding with adrenaline at the thought that they might just be about to make history.

***

“Over here,” she yelled, and he started at the sound, at the almost panicked glee in her voice. “I think- Oh gods- I think this is it.” 

Her snow goggles were perched on top of her head, and she’d pulled down her balaclava, and he could see the excitement on her face as he rounded the hill, tromping over to join her. “Gendry,” she breathed, staring transfixed at something in front of her. “I think we found it.”

There was a cleft in the rocks, a dark fissure that looked like a shadow unless you were right on top of it. He stared at the opening in wonder, then turned to look at Arya, who met his gaze with wide, almost incredulous eyes. 

Half an hour later, they were standing at the entrance, both outfitted with head mounted cameras and LED spot lights. Arya had checked in with Jon, relaying their GPS location and swearing up and down to report in every half hour. She’d tied them both off to a nearby weirwood, almost a quarter mile of rope tethering them to the outside, and then there was nothing left to do, nothing left to prepare. 

She turned to look at him and let out a long shuddering breath, her eyes silently asking him if he was ready. Gendry nodded, a terrified thrill rushing through him as he nodded in assent and turned to follow her into the dark.

***

It was musty and dank and felt older than anything he’d ever encountered, but from somewhere ahead of them came a light breeze, a promise of something else.

He hadn’t known what to expect. Arya had assured him that from the journal’s description, it was unlikely that there’d be any real danger, and it seemed that she’d been entirely correct. It was almost anticlimactic, walking slowly through the dirt passage that was lined with the white roots of the weirwood trees above them. He nearly had to crouch, the top of the tunnel just inches from the top of his head, and he kept instinctively ducking, pulling himself away from it, but the lack of open space above him seemed the only issue. 

They passed a few smaller tunnels branching off in different directions, but Arya seemed to know exactly where she was going, so he kept following her deeper into the earth until at last they emerged into a vast cavern, the LEDs on their heads illuminating even more passages off the sides of the space. 

Up ahead, there was a dark entrance that seemed to beckon to them, pulling them closer. Down, down, down, they descended the steep path, both of them noting the empty niches carved into the stone and even more weirwood roots snaking their way across the walls. There was a faint sound of running water that grew louder and louder until they found themselves at the top of a gaping chasm, an underground river far below. 

“It’s here,” she said, letting out a long slow breath, and he turned to look at her. Slowly, she spun around, the light on her head washing across the darkness, revealing what he wasn’t sure they’d actually find. 

Behind them, a twisted throne of weirwood grew out of the wall of the cave, and in it sat a pile of bones, the skull tilted on its side, its empty sockets blank and unseeing. Gendry let out a long, shuddering breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “It’s actually here.”

They both stood perfectly still for a long moment, almost paralyzed with the weight of their discovery, but then Arya snapped into what he assumed was her archeologist mode and immediately began narrating what they were seeing as she moved closer, intent on recording everything. 

***

They might have missed it, being nearly completely swallowed up by the roots of the weirwood that were hiding it, but the light from Gendry’s helmet had caught the golden flames of the pommel, and Arya shrieked with excitement, dropping to her knees and bending close. A moment later, she had a sword in her hand, her face triumphant as she held it up in front of her. 

Gendry’s mouth dropped, and he felt his breath leave him as he staggered backwards in shock. They stared at each other, open-mouthed, and then they moved as one, throwing their arms around one other and embracing as the reality of what they’d found hit them. 

Pulling back, his gaze dropped to her mouth, and he _almost_ kissed her, but then he remembered the cameras on their heads, and he stepped back quickly. Arya’s smile faltered, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion, but it was only for a moment, the exhilaration of their discovery blossoming on her face again. Then half a second later, her face dropped again, horror washing over it.

“Shit,” she said, lifting the hand not holding the sword to smack herself in the forehead. 

“What?”

She looked up at him sheepishly. “All my training. All my expertise. All my experience, and I just completely lost my head. I should know better than to just yank something out of somewhere like that.”

He stared at her, at the sword, at the spot in the weirwood throne that she’d pulled it from, then back at her. “Should we put it back?” he asked, his head tilted in concern, and Arya let out a short, almost hysterical laugh. 

Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling her laughter, but her entire body was shaking with the force of it. “Should we put it back?” she gasped out, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. 

Gendry watched her, torn between perplexment and amusement, realizing that he’d said, not exactly the wrong thing, but definitely not the right one either. 

After what felt like a ridiculously long time, Arya’s giggles finally subsided, and she wiped her eyes. “No, Gendry,” she said, her mouth twitching, “we shouldn’t put it back. Right now, the best thing we can do is just document as much as we can before we head back.”

“Right,” he said, nodding. “What do you need me to do?”

***

When they arrived back at the cabin well after dark, exhausted but elated, Pyp froze in shock when he saw what she was carrying and immediately demanded a full explanation of how they managed to track down one of the most elusive treasures in Westerosi history. After a thorough recounting over dinner, to an appreciative audience of one, the full weight of the day hit them, and they both collapsed on the sofa, too tired to even nominally protest when Pyp refused their offers of help.

***

“I can’t believe we actually found it,” he repeated, for probably what was the fiftieth time since they’d left the cave. 

They were sitting on the lumpy, threadbare couch by the fire, nearly shoulder to shoulder, with Dark Sister on the chipped wooden coffee table in front of them, almost glowing in the firelight. Pyp was outside, taking care of something Gendry didn’t quite catch, so they were alone.

“I can’t believe I got to be a part of this,” he said, reaching out to run his fingers over the blade. “I can’t believe I almost wasn’t.”

“What made you change your mind?” she asked softly, and he turned to look at her, his breath hitching as he did. Her face was less than a foot from his. She was close enough that he could make out the lightest smattering of freckles across her nose.

“I wanted to know,” he said softly, and she tilted her head questioningly. 

“Know what?”

Gendry took a deep breath, willing the nerves in his stomach to settle as his eyes roamed over her face, taking in all of her, her shining eyes, her slightly parted lips, her flushed cheeks, and a sudden certainty took hold of him. 

“This,” he said, and leaned in, covering her mouth with his. She let out a tiny, surprised squeak, but before he could even begin to regret his actions, her arms were around his neck, and she was kissing him back with an enthusiasm that made his heart soar. 

They broke apart, and he pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed and heart racing. Arya’s shuddering breath felt warm against his lips, and he kissed her again, unable to resist the temptation now that her fingers were wound through the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer. 

“I wanted to know,” he said breathlessly once they’d parted again, “what that was like.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her hips shifting, rotating to face him more fully. “And now that you know?”

Gendry pulled back slightly to meet her heated gaze. “I never want to do anything else,” he said, trying to put every bit of feeling he could into his words, trying to convey just how much she meant to him.

Her grey eyes shone silver in the firelight, and she tilted her face up, pressing her lips to his, his hand coming up to cup her cheek as they both melted into the kiss. 

“I thought maybe- I hoped-” she said, in between kisses. “But I wasn’t sure.”

Gendry chuckled against her mouth, and he felt it curve up into a smile. “Are you sure now?”

She nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything than I am right now, and I don’t think I ever want to do anything else either.”

A contented sort of bliss spread through him, and he kissed her again, reveling in the feel of her hands in his hair, in the tiny sighs she was making as he tugged her closer. She had just thrown her leg over his lap and climbed on top of him when the door banged open and Pyp barged in, ranting about the godsforsaken wind. 

Thankfully, he hadn’t seemed to notice their positions or how quickly they’d jumped away from each other or how flushed their cheeks were or how wild their hair was. Or if he had, he’d just kept that to himself. 

His half-formed fantasies of sharing a bed ended up being not so far fetched after all. He’d just climbed onto his bunk when Arya plopped down next to him and grabbed the brightly colored quilt, pulling it over both of them, before turning on her side and scooting back against his chest. “You better not be a blanket hog,” she said, reaching for his hand and wrapping it around her waist. “Or I might have to rethink this whole thing.” 

Gendry laughed softly and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple as he pulled her closer, smiling when she laced her fingers with his. As exhaustion claimed him, he knew, with absolute certainty, that he never wanted to let go.

***

The drive back to Castle Black felt like nothing. Seven hours flew by with her hand in his and revelations they’d had neither the time nor the opportunity for the night before. To Gendry’s utter surprise, Arya sheepishly confessed that she’d liked him since he first snapped at her, despite his obvious disdain for her. 

“I worried I was being far too obvious,” she said, flushing, “bringing you gifts like some kind of weird mating ritual.”

He let out a small huff of laughter, shaking his head incredulously. “Honestly, it never even occurred to me. I thought you were just bribing me. I mean, I’m kind of an asshole,” he said, but she just shrugged. 

“Yeah, but it was cute how annoyed you were with me. How passionate you were about your work,” she said, glancing at him quickly before turning her attention back to the road. “Besides, now you’re my asshole.” She paused, her face turning a bit uncertain. “Aren’t you?”

Gendry waited until she slowed to a stop at a red light just ahead, then reached over, his fingers brushing against her chin, coaxing her to turn and face him. “I will be whatever you want me to be,” he said, locking eyes with her, “for as long as you want me to be it. I’m all in, Arya.”

Her eyes softened, and her mouth quirked up into a half smile before she leaned in and kissed him. They might have stayed there all day, his hands cupping her face as they got lost in each other, but a horn blaring from behind them pulled them apart, exchanging slightly embarrassed looks as they did. 

Arya waved an apologetic hand to the car behind them and pulled forward, her eyes fixed firmly ahead of her. “Just so you know,” she said softly, her cheeks reddening as she spoke. “I’m all in too.”

***

“So, are you finally going to tell me what you were after?” 

He was tucked into a far corner of the great hall at Castle Black, his phone pressed against his ear, trying to block out the noise from across the room. When they arrived, they had been immediately swept up by Jon, whose astonishment in their discovery had quickly turned to pride in his cousin. The news of what they’d found spread like wildfire and soon they were surrounded by Jon, his friend Sam, and a number of others whose names Gendry did not catch, but it seemed that nearly everyone wanted to talk to them, to hear the story, to see the sword. 

Arya had caught one look at his face and mouthed _go_ before stepping forward and fielding the various questions being thrown at them, and Gendry had gratefully escaped to finally return Bella’s countless messages demanding updates. 

“Gendry?” Bella’s voice crackled over the line. “What’d you find?”

His eyes were fixed on Arya, on her face as she listened intently to Sam, who had fetched a stack of books and spread them out on the table next to Dark Sister and was gesturing wildly between them.

It was as if she felt the weight of his gaze on her across the room, and she lifted her head, meeting his eyes with a soft, tender smile, flooding him with a quiet happiness and the utter certainty that this woman was the best thing he could have ever hoped for, that he’d do everything he possibly could to keep her in his life, and that he’d be a fucking idiot to ever forget it.

Arya held his gaze, and he let out a long slow breath before answering.

“Something priceless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick thanks to ObsessiveWriter for looking over these last two chapters and soothing my wild insecurity over them. 
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments. I do so very much appreciate it. 
> 
> If you didn't see the illustration that Tumblr user Coffegost did for the last chapter, make sure you check it out [here](https://coffegost.tumblr.com/post/623398990444216320/read-me-carefully-follow-me-closely-doubt-me) or you can see it at the end of the previous chapter. Give her some love for such a gorgeous depiction of that scene!


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